


For You Page

by smuttytaelien



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Bottom Zhong Chen Le, Dance Instructor Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Dancer Park Jisung (NCT), M/M, Makeup, Minor Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Park Jisung (NCT) is Whipped, TikTok, Top Park Jisung (NCT)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smuttytaelien/pseuds/smuttytaelien
Summary: jisung knew of the famous zhong chenle. who didn't? he was the prettiest makeup artist on tiktok.so when his fans started calling chenle his boyfriend, jisung was certainly intrigued.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 13
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

[ our worlds collided long before you met me, darling ]

Jisung swung his keychain as he walked into the dance studio, kicking at the pebbles on the sidewalk that poor Renjun always managed to trip over. Ten greeted him from behind the front desk with a half-hearted wave and a cup of room temperature coffee. Well, it was 90% french vanilla and 10% coffee, but coffee nonetheless. 

The kids weren't scheduled to arrive for another hour, and Jisung lazily lounged on the couch in his booked studio. His phone was on silent, but occasionally the screen would flash with another TikTok notification. He posted a 15-second video last night covering Stray Kids' new song Back Door, and the comments were still pouring in twelve hours later. 

Jisung started Tiktok about six months ago when quarantine boredom was beginning to set in. The dance studio closed due to the virus, and Jisung became a complete hermit. He downloaded TikTok ironically months before he started making videos, and never considered using the platform for dance. When he saw the number of mediocre dancers on TikTok receiving thousands of likes, he stepped in. His first video was a short cover of Taemin's Move, and it garnered him about 200,00 followers. Most were teenage girls gushing over his cute nose and sexy body, but other dancers steadily joined his following. 5.5 million followers later, and Jisung was posting weekly covers and back to his studio. 

He needed to film his original choreography dance while the studio was booked, but the coffee didn't usually kick in for another forty minutes, and the kids were prancing into the classroom by then. As much as it pained him to stay later on a beautiful, college-free Saturday morning, he would have too. 

Jisung tossed his empty coffee cup in the trashcan by the speakers and stretched his legs. Teaching a kids hip-hop class sounded easy in theory, but dancing the same choreography for an hour took a toll on his muscles. He already pulled his thigh muscle breakdancing, and if he wanted to participate in his school's winter showcase, he had to be cautious. 

Renjun, the oldest of his kids, requested they learn Ice Cream by Blackpink, which was simple enough. It was crucial to teach the kids to have fun when dancing, so every other week was Say So Saturday. The kids voted on a popular song with choreography the week before, and Jisung taught the top pick. But Sunday was Renjun's tenth birthday, so Jisung let him pick the song without the other kid's input. And maybe Renjun was his favorite, just maybe. He plugged his phone into the speakers and marked through the chorus. 

"Chenle is coming to get you later. Okay, baby?" Renjun's mom crouched in the doorway, dark hair flowing down the uncomfortable arch of her spine. She played with the straps of Renjun's Spiderman backpack and placed a motherly kiss on his forehead. They spoke briefly in Chinese before the woman waved goodbye to Jisung and left. 

"Good morning, Mr. Jisung!" Renjun chirped, tossing his book bag into the wooden cubbies leaning against the wall. He switched his slip-ons for a pair of neon green Skechers and hopped to his spot in the room. The kids had assigned seats for class, marked by peeling blue painters tape that Jisung slapped against the floor before each lesson. 

"Good morning, Junnie! Is Chenle your brother? I've never met him." Jisung asked. He heard tales of Renjun's eighteen-year-old brother daily, both good and bad, but never met him in person. 

Renjun giggled as he butterfly stretched on the floor, a goofy grin on his face. "But he's on your phone all the time!" 

Jisung froze where he was stretching, staring at Renjun upside-down. "Huh? When?"

"Can I show you, Mister?" Renjun asked politely. Jisung didn't want an almost-ten-year-old touching his phone (he was a hormonal teenager, after all), but his curiosity outweighed his caution. He unplugged his phone and sat next to Renjun. After unlocking it with his fingerprint and checking for anything incriminating, he passed it to the eager child. Renjun opened the Tiktok app and clicked on Jisung's following. He didn't follow many people, just a few dancers, and Renjun found who he was looking for easily. How could he not? Chenle had over 20 million followers and was possibly the cutest boy on the app. But wait, why would Renjun show him Chenle's profile? Oh my god. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!

"Your Chenle is Tiktok Chenle?" Jisung spluttered, cheeks red. He left many comments on Chenle's makeup tutorials, most less-than-appropriate. He had a beautiful smile, the softest-looking hair, and donated monthly to charities combatting child abuse. Yeah, Jisung was crushing hard. 

Renjun nodded, and Jisung would have spent the entire hour grilling the poor kid about his hot older brother, but more children were arriving. He stood from the ground and brushed the dirt from his sweatpants to greet the parents properly. Hendery, Yangyang, and Xiaojun, the triplets, plopped onto their spots, whispering amongst themselves. Donghyuck bounced into the room a few minutes later, dolphin plushie tucked in his armpit for safety. Lucas, the tallest kid, shuffled past the doorframe with his eyes locked on the ground. He tried to appear invisible, but his spiky hair and extra inches made him a skyscraper among houses. Mark arrived last, per usual, and threw himself onto his tape with a tired pant. 

Jisung clapped his hands, and the chatter stilled. "Alright, boys. Today we're going to learn..." 

_________

Five more minutes, just five more minutes, and he was free from the repetitive chants of ice cream chillin'. Renjun's excitement about learning his song choice kept Jisung's exhausted mind alert for the remaining class time. Donghyuck's plush was dancing with him, wiggling its fins in tune with Jennie's voice. The twins abandoned the song halfway through, and Jisung occasionally roped them back in with empty promises and faux enthusiasm. 9:59, the clock read. That was close enough. 

"Circle up!" He called out. 

The boys rushed to the front of the room, forming a lopsided semi-circle around Jisung. Lucas was the only one tall enough to make eye contact, and Jisung avoided his puppy eyes at all costs. He'd much rather stare at the top of Mark's fluffy hair than have his darkest secrets exposed by some eight-year-olds eyeballs. 

"You all did so well today! Any suggestions for next week?" Jisung asked. Lucas shyly raised his hand. "Whatcha got for me, Lucas?"

"Can we learn one of your songs, Mister Jisung?" He timidly requested. The boys cheered their approval, jumping around and mimicking the dances they've seen Jisung do. It was cute, albeit too hyper for ten in the morning. 

"Of course you can! Don't forget your bookbags." The boys scattered across the classroom, Donghyuck rushing to his dolphin and Mark running to wait by the door. It was a studio rule that no child was to leave without the teacher first seeing their parent, and Jisung respected Ten's sincerity. Mark's dad, a young man with eyebags deeper than the Mariana Trench and always sporting a hideous mustard-colored tie, approached the door first. He waved to Jisung and took Mark's hand. Donghyuck left next, then the twins, leaving him and Renjun in the spacious room. 

Jisung ignored his presence in favor of setting up his phone and checking the angles for his video. Renjun sat quietly on the couch, kicking his feet against the wall like being late was normal. His mother was a punctual lady, which meant his brother had an affinity for being behind schedule. It didn't matter to Jisung. He just wanted to film his TikTok and be done for the day. 

"Renjunnie?" 

Renjun perked up. 

"Is it alright if I record a video? For Tiktok?" The camera angle blocked the couch completely, and he doubted Mrs. Zhong would care anyway. Renjun nodded and swung his feet again, softly humming a tune Jisung hadn't heard. He shrugged and hit record. The music video for Dinero shone on his laptop, and he clicked play before rushing to his starting position.

Dancing for Jisung felt like writing to an author, or the stroke of a brush for an artist. He moved like he was Shakespeare writing about love, creating art that transcended boundaries. His mind was a constant whirl of 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. His discarded school work, the C in his bio 201 class, the thoughts of a love he'd never recover, none of it mattered. As long as his feet hit the counts and his face sold the story, he was the wealthiest man in the world.

He repeated the choreography until the clock read 10:37 a.m., and fetched his belongings. Renjun was no longer seated on the couch, and a quick chat with Ten revealed the boy's whereabouts. He left with his brother ten minutes ago, and Jisung would die by Ten's hands if he got distracted again. 

He left the studio and drove home, bopping to the pop songs on the radio. His apartment complex was hidden between a Wal-mart and a retail store specializing in men's tuxedos, and the entrance was nearly invisible to anyone who didn't live there. 

Jisung parked his car next to a scraggly oak tree and locked it. His poor Ford would be covered with pine needles by the time he woke up for his brother's weekly brunch, but it provided the best shade in the parking lot. With difficulty, he unlocked his front door and tossed his keys onto the coffee table. His legs felt like wet spaghetti noddles had replaced the flesh and muscle. He collapsed on the couch with a disgruntled huff and opened his video. Out of the five takes, he narrowed it down to two. After noticing the constipated expression he made in one of the contenders, he skipped to the third attempt. The dancing was smooth, as he expected, and his face conveyed the emotions accurately. His fans would love it. But there was one teeny-tiny problem.

Zhong Chenle was in the background of his video carrying his little brother. How the hell did Jisung miss meeting the love of his life? What a shame. Ignoring the familiar smile in the background, Jisung uploaded the video to Tiktok. Hopefully, his dancing would hinder the brightness of Chenle's pretty smile. He typed a basic caption about his Youtube channel, added the latest tags, and hit post without a second thought.


	2. two

[ why are you so anxious, sweets? the fun hasn't even started yet. ] 

"Park Jisung, did you get someone pregnant?" Jaemin screamed, fists banging relentlessly against Jisung's bedroom door. His older brother was prone to raging fits of obnoxious yelling, usually dealt with by his boyfriend, Jeno, but the man was at work until five. Jaemin peeked through the hole in Jisung's door, conveniently done by him the night Jisung came home stoned and covered in hickeys, and glowered. "Open the fucking door, Jisung!" 

"I didn't get anyone pregnant, Jaem," Jisung groaned, tossing his covers to the floor. He would pick them up later, maybe. He flipped the lock, and Jaemin threw the door open. Jaemin's blonde hair was tousled as he ran through the pouring rain outside Jisung's window. His cherry-coated lips were pulled into a disappointed frown that Jisung only saw when Jaemin was kill-everyone-and-escape angry. His phone was unlocked in his hand, playing the same video on loop. The device was shoved into Jisung's arms. 

"Explain this. Who is that kid?" Jaemin pointed to a young child in the background of the video, and suddenly, it clicked. Jisung frantically opened the comments, palms sweating, and turning Jaemin's phone to butter in his hands. 

thatonenctzen: yo why'd that guy look like chenle 😳 do i smell a collab  
↳ raeweeb: @/jisung_park   
↳ _yutenshi_: @/jisung_park  
View replies (344) 

yeosangsmissinglines_.: my two favorite tiktokers in one video 🥺

j0ycore: chensung collab??? 

chxngbxn: who's the little boy? chensung parents: confirmed  
View replies (57)

smuttytaelien: they're definitely fucking 👁👅👁  
View replies (109)

"Oh, no, no, no. How the hell did they recognize him?" Jisung squawked. "It was only his hair!" 

Jaemin peered over his shoulder with curious eyes. "You thought people wouldn't recognize Zhong Chenle? I know you're smarter than that, Ji. I mean, how many people do you know with pink hair?" 

"I don't know! Should I delete it?" Jisung knawed on the skin of his bottom lip, tasting the iron on his tongue. Would Chenle be upset? He hoped not. In fact, he hoped the makeup artist never saw the video or the comments tagging him. Then he could put a face to the endless thirst comments on his page, and Jisung did not need that embarrassment. 

"I don't know. Maybe you should ask Chenle." 

Jisung scoffed, jostling Jaemin's head resting on his shoulder. "Yeah, because we're best friends, and I can casually message him."

"Whatever, as long as you didn't knock someone up, my job is done." Jaemin ruffled his damp hair and readjusted his hoodie that looked suspiciously like Jeno's highschool hoodie. "We're having stirfry for dinner. Come out when you smell it." Jaemin shut the door with a dazzling smile. Jisung knew why Jeno fell for his obnoxious brother. It was the same reason Jisung's ninth-grade crush only came over when Jaemin was home, and his ex-girlfriend sent him nudes. Jaemin was leaking with sympathy, despite his outbursts, and he had a jawline that put Greek Gods to shame. 

Jisung flopped against his bedsheets and opened the video on his phone, discarded between his rumpled pillows and Stitch plushie. He couldn't help but wearily eye the comment bubble. A peek couldn't hurt, right? He clicked the icon and anxiously waited for the comments to load. 

kenmaswitch: why is nobody talking about Jisung's dance :(( he did so good!   
↳ lemxntxast: i know!! poor baby. we love your dancing sungie ❤

Jisung liked the comment with a pleased grin. 

spoderlizard: the little boy looks EXACTLY like chenle

_adrieann_: jisung please break my neck   
View replies (236)

hyxckcinth: i thought jisung was dating chaeryoung  
↳ ridinandrollin: LQNSKWK they broke up

Jisung winced at the last comment. Chaeryoung was a girl about one year older than himself, with beautiful dark hair and sparkly eyes that only existed in Disney movies. They met when her college ballroom class merged with his. In the most cliche of circumstances, she became his dance partner, and the feelings blossomed from there. Unfortunately, she wasn't immune to Jaemin's power, and it was three months into their relationship that he discovered her intentions. 

The smell of chicken wafted through his door, and he plugged his phone into the charger before joining his brother in the dining room. He heard shuffling in the hall bathroom that sounded similar to Jeno's muscled body knocking over all the bottles in the tub. Jisung cringed as they banged against the porcelain, echoing around the house. Jeno peeked his head out a moment later, torso bare. 

"Can you get Jaemin, please?"

Jisung snorted. "What? Did you start your period or something?" 

Jeno threw his shirt at Jisung, accidentally exposing his impressive girth that was dripping between his legs. Jisung screamed and covered his eyes with the questionable t-shirt tossed to him. Penises were not unfamiliar to Jisung, having used his own multiple times, but he could have died without seeing Jeno's. Jaemin rushed down the hallway at the sound of his brothers shrill scream, and froze when he noticed the unfortunate situation. 

"Deal with it yourself, Lee Jeno," he scolded, shoving his boyfriend's face behind the door and slamming it shut. "Come now, Jiji, your food will get cold."

Jisung wasn't sure if he could swallow after seeing thing-that-shall-not-be-named, but he joined his brother anyway. Jeno came to the table minutes later with a guilty smile on his face. He sat down and silently dug into his stirfry, avoiding Jisung's eyes. 

"So who was that kid, anyway?" Jaemin asked after he swallowed the rice in his mouth. 

"Oh! That was Renjun. Don't you remember? I learned Ice Cream for him." Jaemin did, in fact, not remember, but he nodded regardless. "Chenle's his older brother." 

"That means you've met him before then," Jeno piped in, but glares from the two brothers shot him down. 

"I haven't. And I can't believe I missed my chance too," Jisung whined, kicking the ground with his socked feet. Jaemin nudged him under the table as a silent warning for him to stop. "I'll never see him again, I just know it." 

Jaemin cooed and reached over the table to pull Jisung's cheek. "Be hopeful, little bro."

Jisung would rather suck Jeno's floppy dick.


	3. three

[ we linger in the cosmos, starshine ] 

chenlele mentioned you in a video

Jisung snatched his phone off the coffee table and scrambled to open Tiktok. There's no way the Zhong Chenle mentioned him in a video, none, nada, zilch. It had to be a troll account messing with Jisung's hapless star stricken feelings. The app loaded, conveniently to Chenle's latest makeup video that was already flooding the for you page, and Jisung clicked on his profile. The newest video was not a makeup tutorial at all, but a quick video of Chenle making a pink drink. He sometimes posted videos of how to make Starbucks drinks at home, and Jisung watched all of them, despite hating Starbucks coffee. Chenle looked adorable in his green apron that few could pull off, and butterfly clipped hair. Unlike his usual Starbucks videos, there was no summery background music. 

we're not dating, sorry guys! but i'd love to do your makeup sometime @jisung_park, the caption read, and Jisung dropped his phone. No. Fucking. Way. He grabbed the slimy device and reread the caption at least seventeen times, taking a screenshot just in case Chenle tagged the wrong person, or it was some cruel joke. Jisung turned up the volume on his phone to hear what Chenle was saying and almost died. 

"A lot of you guys were tagging me in Jisung's comment section!" Chenle began while mixing the coconut milk with the strawberry acai base. "I didn't even notice he was filming when I walked in, so sorry about that, Jisung! For the record, you're a great dancer, and Renjun loves you to death. He talks about you all the time," Chenle dragged out the last syllable in all with an exaggerated giggly eyeroll. "We're not dating, and Renjun is my little brother, not our kid. I'm sorry if the accusations caused you any harm, Jisung, and I'd love to make it up to you! Message me when you see this so I can do your makeup." Chenle poured the drink into a cup and popped the lid on. "Pretty please," he drawled, batting his eyelashes at the camera. The video ended, and Jisung rushed to open his messages. 

"God, what am I supposed to say? Hi, I'm Jisung! But he already knows that." Jisung chewed on his hair tie anxiously. "Is using more than one y excessive? Yeah, definitely." He settled on a flirty comment, hoping it didn't backfire and alarm Chenle. 

jisung_park: are you that opposed to dating me?

chenlele: oh, hello! that was fast! do you have my notifs on or something? 

jisung_park: will it be weird if I say yes?

chenlele: not really, i've seen your comments mr. park. it'd be more surprising if you didn't

jisung_park: i appreciate a pretty boy when i see one

chenlele: are you busy next saturday?

jisung_park: just your brothers dance class and i'm done for the day, why?

chenlele: can i come over and do your makeup? i need to film a youtube video, and my followers would go crazy if they saw you

jisung_park: only if i can teach you to dance next time

chenlele: its a deal. good doing business with you mr. park

jisung_park: likewise, mr. zhong

Zhong Chenle was coming to his house. Zhong Chenle was coming to his house. Oh God, he needed to tell Jaemin and Jeno to disappear. Was his room clean? Did he ever pick up his underwear like Jaemin said? Jisung tossed his phone to the side and bolted to his room. His clothes, dirty or not, were strewn across the floor and hanging from his computer chair. He threw them all into the hamper in his closet and rearranged his stuffed animals on his bed. It reeked of teenage boy, and he sprayed a generous amount of Febreeze around the room. Flowery and fresh, Jisung triumphantly closed his door. 

The hard part was getting Jaemin to agree to leave him alone. He was a bit notorious for causing havoc when unsupervised, but at least he couldn't get Chenle pregnant. He cautiously opened his brother's bedroom door and peeked his head around the corner. The room was free of clothes and didn't smell like sex, so Jisung opened the door further, and good fucking lord. 

"How many times am I gonna see your dick this week?" He deadpanned. Jeno pulled the covers over his hips and buried his fuming face in a pillow. Jaemin smirked and continued to stroke Jeno under the covers. 

"Don't worry, Jisungie, he gets off on being watched," Jaemin teased, and Jeno smacked his arm. 

"Look, I need the apartment to myself next Saturday, please? Chenle's coming over." 

Jaemin waggled his eyebrows and whistled. "Get your man, Ji! Remember to use protection. Jeno and I were planning on going to Ten's anyway. They offered to have a-" 

Jisung slammed the door shut. His brother's terrifying sex life would have to wait, he had counters to clean. Three hours later, the house was sparkling like a Mr. Clean commercial. The counters were spotless, the dust on the TV was gone, and all of Jisung's laundry was folded neatly in his dresser. And now, for his favorite time of the day, rewatching all of Chenle's YouTube videos (he was meeting Chenle on Saturday! Zhong! Chenle!).


	4. four

[ to be frank, I know nothing about makeup, and this will be a shitshow. ]

Chenle's eyes terrified him. They were a beautiful mahogany brown, swimming with flecks of gold, just like his brothers. Both siblings had a carefree gleam that hinted at a life of purity and regality. But Chenle's housed something abstruser, more intimate, as he gazed over Jisung's stringless sweatpants and pink t-shirt. He looked interested in Jisung. Domestically interested. Jisung wasn't a fan of 'domestic interest'. He preferred the thrills of skin on skin and tongues scraping teeth, but Chenle's eyes spoke of midnight baking and sharing clothes. 

Jisung opened his front door, and Chenle walked through the threshold, waving his glittery makeup bag. Jisung wasn't familiar with the technicalities of makeup. Sure, he had his collection of sticky fruit-flavored lip gloss, but that was the extent of his knowledge. Chenle placed the bag on the living room table and set up his tripod in front of the TV. The camera was expensive, unquestionably, and Jisung climbed over the back off the couch to avoid touching it. It would take him years of Saturday dance class to pay off that thing. The camera beeped, and Chenle sat by Jisung's side, still looking at him with his 'domesticated' eyes. 

"Hello, my darlings!" Chenle greeted the camera peppily. "Today, I brought a guest with me. This is Jisung. Say hi, Sungie!" Chenle nudged him, and Jisung awkwardly grimaced at the camera.

"Hi, I'm Jisung. I'm a dancer and choreographer at SM studio." Jisung cringed. He sounded like he was going through puberty all over again, with weird pauses and uncomfortable stuttering. "Uh, some of you may know me? My username is jisung_park on TikTok." 

Chenle giggled, sweet and flirty, and leaned further into Jisung's side. Maybe Chenle wasn't domesticated after all, not with the fingers drawing shapeless patterns on Jisung's thigh. Chenle pulled away with a cheeky grin and began explaining his makeup look to the camera. Jisung zoned out after cut-crease, whatever that was, and fiddled with his phone. It wasn't on, but it provided security for him, a reason to avoid the camera's stare. 

"Alright, Jisungie." Chenle lifted his head gently, egg-shaped sponge in his hand. It was covered in foundation (that's what it's called, right?), and Chenle introduced the brand to the camera before dabbing it on Jisung's forehead. He shivered at the cold liquid against his hot skin, and from Chenle hands brushing his hair into an apple bun. "Tell me about yourself," he prompted, dabbing across Jisung's cheekbones. It was a bit violent, but Chenle's hand on the back of his neck kept him from slamming against the couch. 

"Well, I'm eighteen. I started my freshman year of college two months ago as a dance major, and I teach your brother's class on Saturdays to help pay for rent." 

Chenle hummed and replaced his egg for a fan brush. He showed the product to the camera and dipped the brush in an almond-colored powder. "Why? Do your parents not pay rent? Also, just a heads up, if you say anything personal, I'll cut it out, but if I'm talking to the camera, I can't." Chenle paused to blow the excess powder off the brush. "I want to know you, Jisung." 

The brush danced across his jawline, and Jisung flinched at the ticklish sensation. Chenle rolled his eyes fondly and pulled him back, closer than before. Chenle had a small cluster of freckles on the tip of his nose, and his lips were coated in a sparkly gloss that smelled like cherries. 

"I don't have parents," Jisung admitted. "Jaemin and I were foster kids that outlived the system. My parents gave me up when I was thirteen, and I don't remember much before then. I spent years hating them, but I'm older now, and it doesn't hurt so much." 

Chenle chose a deep blue color for his lids, and Jisung closed his eyes. 

"I don't hide my past anymore, neither does Jaemin, but his still hurts him. His parents gave him up when he was a baby, before he could even speak to them, grow to love them. He was passed around foster homes, but he never stuck. That's the main reason he's such a perfectionist. He thinks his parents thought he wouldn't do anything with his life. He calls it coping, but I call it overcompensating. I don't understand people pleasers, especially the ones who try for people who won't even call them on their birthdays." 

A pause, Chenle wiped the fallout beneath his eye and explained the eyebrow pencil he was using. 

"My parents saved me, putting me in the system. They were broke, and they thought I'd have a better chance at life if I had different parents. I met Jaemin at his 17th foster home and my first. Obviously, that didn't go too well. The woman was a bitch. She had seven foster kids because she loved the paychecks, not the kids. Jaemin turned eighteen in August and adopted me in January. Honestly, I'm not sure if it was even legal, but the adoption counselor loved me. I was sixteen when we moved here with Jeno, and that's been it ever since." Jisung shrugged, knocking Chenle's hand off his face. The older huffed, and Jisung grinned apologetically. 

"If Jaemin strives for perfection, what's your vice?" Chenle asked, swirling the brush in shiny silver powder. 

What was his vice? Sex, maybe, but he didn't have enough sex to consider it a habit. He hadn't smoked a day in his life, alcohol tasted okay for twenty minutes before he was throwing up on Jaemin's bed, and cigarettes smelled awful. 

"You're going to think I'm the biggest douche you've ever met," Jisung chuckled. Chenle shook his head and tilted Jisung's chin towards the ceiling. "It's love," Jisung confessed. Chenle raised an eyebrow and nearly stabbed Jisung in the eye with his mascara brush. "I make people fall in love with me. It's a power thing, I guess. If someone loves me, and I don't love them, I can't be hurt." 

Chenle rubbed lipgloss across Jisung's lips and put his supplies away silently. He showcased Jisung's makeup, said his goodbyes, and packed up his camera. Jisung led him to the door and leaned against the doorframe, tasting the cherry on his lips. 

Chenle froze in the walkway and placed his hand on Jisung's bicep, squeezing tenderly. "Jisung, it's okay that it hurts. Don't think otherwise, okay?" Chenle kissed his parted lips softly. "Text me when you're ready to dance. I'll be waiting." Then he was gone, and Jisung was left with more questions than answers. 


	5. five

[ do you really love her? or is society saying you have to. ]

Jisung fiddled with the letter in his hands, the worn paper rough against his palms. The note held the last personal connection to Jisung's birth parents, a messy jumble of letters and an address in the top left corner. He's kept it for nearly six years in a spot under his bed where Jaemin couldn't find it. Jaemin pretended to be indifferent towards Jisung's parents, but he harbored ill feelings, and Jisung knew he wouldn't be happy about his decision. His phone was dinging on the coffee table, a few messages from his co-workers and a picture from Renjun's mom. The child was sitting cross-legged outside the studio, a pout on his face and arms crossed. The picture came with a message that said: Renjun won't go in without his big brother Jisungie! Jisung responded with a laughing emoji and dialed Chenle's number.

They last saw each other a week ago, and Jisung's been toying with the idea of contacting his parents since. It felt right for Chenle to know his choice, even though they texted every day, and he probably already did. 

"Hey, Sungie! Call to say sorry to Renjun?" Chenle giggled, and Renjun yelled in the foreground. Chenle screeched, and the phone slammed against the ground. Jisung heard the tussle between brothers and wondered when Jaemin would be home from his date. 

"Jisung!" Renjun panted into the receiver. "Where were you? I missed you." 

"Sorry, Renjunnie," Jisung cooed. 

"Please come back next week, Mr. Jisung! No offense, but Mr. Ten sucks." Renjun whispered, and Jisung laughed so hard his knee slammed against the coffee table. Ten wasn't known for being good with kids. He was unapologetically blunt and strict, but dancing was his life. 

There was shuffling again, and Chenle regained control of his device. "He loves you. It's disgustingly cute." 

"I'm going to see my parents," Jisung blurted, his nervous energy reaching a boiling point. Chenle's gentle breathing drifted through the speaker, and Jisung's foot stopped tapping. He inhaled, feeling the air in his lungs, and spoke again, slower. "I want to see my parents. You were right. I need closure."

"That's great, Ji. Did you tell Jaemin yet?" 

"No, he's out with Jeno. I-" 

The front door opened, and Jeno tumbled through, arms filled with shopping bags. They were from Victoria's Secret (Jaemin, what the fuck), HotTopic, and was that Wal-mart? 

"I gotta go. Jaemin's home."

"Good luck. We still on for next week?" 

"Of course." 

Chenle hung up, and Jisung put his phone back on the coffee table. Jaemin strutted through the door like a Beverly Hills diva with two Starbucks cups in his hands. He handed one to Jisung, and he sipped at the liquid adrenaline gratefully. Truthfully, he hadn't gotten much sleep, if any, last night, and it showed. His eye bags were deep, and he had a nervous twitch that made him look like a rabbit. 

Jeno plopped the bags on the living room floor and collapsed onto the couch, feet falling into Jisung's lap. He shoved them off, and Jaemin sat where Jeno's legs were. The sofa was hardly long enough for Jaemin and Jisung, but somehow they managed to make the two-seater comfortable for the three of them. The letter in Jisung's hand crumpled with each movement. It was now or never, literally. He would chicken out if he didn't say it, and with Jeno around to mediate, it was the perfect opportunity. 

"I want to see my parents." 

Jeno and Jaemin's playfully bantered stopped. Jeno's jaw dropped, and Jaemin's eyes softened. Wait. What? Something was very horribly wrong with his brother. The anger Jisung expected wasn't there, replaced by an expression of acceptance. 

Jaemin patted Jisung's thigh and shook his head. "I knew you would want to eventually. But they're not who you think they are, Jisung." 

"I know they have drug issues, Jaem. I lived through it! I'm older now. I need to see that they're okay." 

Jaemin pursed his lips. "That's the problem. They are okay. I've known you for years, Jisung. Trust me when I say it's best if you don't go."

"I can handle drug addicts," Jisung assured him, and Jaemin shook his head again. "Please. I can't go by myself." 

Jisung bought a bouquet before they left, and the trio piled into Jaemin's Ford. His parents lived about twenty minutes away, in a suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of Seoul. The address on the letter was almost four years old and wrong. Jaemin kept in touch with them through Facebook, but only for special occasions, like Jisung's birthday and Christmas, and scrolled far enough to find their new address. His parents got married, officially, and were now known as Mr. and Mrs. Kim, his father's last name. For some reason, his mother decided Jisung would have her last name, and it never bothered him. But something unfamiliar was rising in his chest. Uncertainty, maybe. No, it was harsher, more of a brutal slamming against his heart than an ache. Did he feel like an outcast? Yes, that was it. His last link to his family, Park, was gone, and he was an outsider. 

Jaemin turned into a gated neighborhood and entered a code he got from his phone screen. The gates swung open, revealing a line of expensive houses. They had Greek-like pillars and large chandeliers that peeked through grand windows. Six years ago, his parents could only dream of owning such a commodity, and Jisung remembered Jaemin's warning. They're not who I think they are, Jisung thought. No way drug addicts without a penny to their name could afford to live here. The car stopped outside an eggshell white house, and Jaemin leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. Jisung was regretting coming. 

"This is it, Jisung. Just know your big brother loves you more than life, okay?" 

Jisung nodded and stepped out of the car. The bouquet in his hands weighed a thousand pounds as he knocked gently on the front door. It was navy blue with a fall wreath hung over the peephole. Jisung heard footsteps, and the door opened. His mother stood on the threshold, dressed in a pencil skirt and white blouse. Her hair was a fading chestnut brown, unlike the blonde she had when he was younger. She showed no signs of heroin abuse or losing a child to drugs. That jabbing feeling returned, and Jisung almost hurled on the welcome mat. 

"Jisung?" She mumbled, and his father appeared. Jisung wanted a hug, but they only stared like he was a robber holding them at gunpoint. Instead, he was their son, and the only object he had was a pretty bouquet of sunflowers. He glanced around the foyer and noticed a small truck.

"I didn't realize you kept my old stuff?" Jisung smiled. He stepped across the threshold, and his mother placed a hand on his shoulder, face pained. 

"Oh, no, Jisung-"

"Mommy! Who's at the door?" A voice called. 

Jisung scoffed and threw the bouquet at his mother's chest. "Fuck you." She cringed and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back inside. Jisung was fucking fuming. He shoved her away, and she stumbled into his father's arms.

"Jisung, please! We had to move on," she pleaded. 

"Move on?" Jisung seethed. "You don't move on from your son!" 

The little voice from before tottered to the door and grabbed his mother's shaking hand. "Mommy, who is he?" He pointed at Jisung, and Jisung's heart shattered. His parents didn't talk about him, not even to his little brother. He was no one to them. 

"I'm your big brother. My name's Jisung." He crouched down and held out his hand. The kid shook his head.

"You're lying. Mommy said my brother died." 

Jisung laughed, and the tears tasted bitter on his tongue. "You're right, kid. I am dead to them." He wanted to hurt someone. Whether it be himself, his mother, this little boy who didn't know any better, anyone. But he didn't get the chance because Jaemin grabbed his arm and buried Jisung's face in his hoodie. 

"I told you to keep him away," Mrs. Kim spat at Jaemin. "He's not good for us." 

"He's the best thing that ever happened to me, and you have no right to tell him otherwise." Jaemin clapped back. "I don't know how it's possible, but you were nicer on heroin." 

Jaemin led him to the car, but Jisung refused to let go. Jeno wordlessly slipped into the driver's seat, and Jaemin cradled Jisung in his arms the entire way home. 


	6. six

[ sometimes love is silent ]

Sweat trickled down the curve of his spine, and he tossed his soaked shirt to the floor. He barely managed to keep his composure during his Saturday class with the cacophony of hateful thoughts spitting vulgar words at him. He almost cried when he saw Chenle in the doorframe, coming to get his little brother, but the promise of seeing each other the next weekend kept him sane. In the short time they've known each other, Chenle became Jisung's haven. Jisung confided in him in a way he'd only shown his brother, and his feelings were more profound than lust now. Chenle's domestic ideas, the ice cream dates, cliche Valentine's candy, it all appealed to Jisung. 

He wanted to hold Chenle's hand while they ran through Seoul to catch the train to their apartment. He wanted the gentle forehead kisses as sleepy good mornings and the matching coffee mugs. Domesticity wasn't the trap Jisung thought, it was stability, and God knows he needed that.

His phone slapped against the wooden floor, and he rushed to set it back up. One week without posting and his fans were already creating theories about his disappearance. The funniest theory involved Chenle, Renjun, and a bucket of kittens. The truth was gloomier, so Jisung didn't comment on his hiatus. He'd sooner his followers think he was lured into death by kittens than shoved into depression by his mother's words. The timer clicked down to one, and the short music clip began. 'La Di Da' by Everglow was the week's most frequent request, and he mustered up all the mental energy he could to blow through the chorus and appease his fans. 

Chenle hadn't posted since their makeup collab, just like Jisung, and it further proved the idea of a relationship between them. Sure, Chenle kissed him, and sure, Jisung thought about doing it again every night in his dreams, but they weren't dating. They danced around each other in a risky game of flirty winks and touches, tiptoeing the line of desire and affection. 

The recording ended, and Jisung flopped on the studio couch. His naked torso stuck to the faux leather, and he sat up with a nasty peeling sound. His dancing was sloppy, as expected. An artist's work is a direct reflection of their emotions, and his sad tutting didn't match the badass vibe he intended. He hoped his abs would distract from his dancing and Chenle's pretty face peeping through the doorway. Which, speaking of Chenle, what was he doing at the studio? Jisung drafted the video and walked to the lobby, leaving his shirt discarded on the floor. Chenle was spinning in Ten's rolly chair, feet kicking at the metal legs of the front desk. Shiny butterfly pins were clipped randomly in his hair (a product of Renjun, probably.) 

"What are you doing?" Jisung tsked, pinching the bridge of his nose like a disappointed teacher. Chenle stopped spinning and grabbed the strings of Jisung's sweatpants, tugging him closer. 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. You haven't texted me back." 

Jisung plopped onto Chenle's lap, back against Chenle's chest, and smiled teasingly. "You saw me like an hour ago, dumbnut." 

Chenle smacked Jisung's tummy. "That's different, and you know it, Park Jisung. It's easy to trick kids, but it's a little harder to trick your future boyfriend." 

"Damn, good thing my future boyfriend isn't here, or I'd be struggling." 

"Ha. Ha. You're so funny," Chenle retorted, voice leaking with sarcasm. "Really though, I know seeing your mom fucked you up. It's fine if you don't want to talk about it. I understand."

Jisung cleared the desktop of Ten's doodles and sat, feet resting on Chenle's thighs. His skin was red from Jisung's butt, and he noticed with a belated gasp that Chenle was wearing shorts. The small cloth covering his body didn't classify as shorts at all, more like a glorified pair of black underwear. It was cute, paired with a basketball jersey for an American team Jisung didn't know. 

He cleared his throat and averted his sights to a stack of paperwork about the kids outfit sizes. "It's not that I don't want to talk about it." He began timidly. "There's nothing to say. She doesn't want me." He tried to sound nonchalant, but his wobbling voice and shimmering eyes betrayed him. "She gave me away and moved on. It makes me feel worthless, honestly. When I was younger, we used to recycle, and every day, she would sort the trash. Glass in the blue bin, paper in the green. She treated garbage better than me." Chenle patted his calf reassuringly, and he blinked the tears away. 

"At least the recyclables got another chance. I was given up on before I was old enough to prove myself. I'm proud of her for becoming the person she wanted to be, but why did she have to do it without me? Was I a burden? And why did she have another kid when she couldn't handle me. If she was ready to be a mom, she should have found me. I'm her son! She didn't need another one!" 

His phone dinged in his pocket, and he dug to find the device, accidentally kicking at Chenle's groin. The notification was a text message, which had to be from Jaemin, seeing as Jisung had everyone but him and Chenle muted. 

banana: JISUNG JISUNG HOLY SHI TJISUDUN  
banana: JENO PROPOSED HE PROPOSED JISUNG ANSWER MEEEEEEE. I'M FRREAKING OUT.

"And now Jaemin's engaged," Jisung scoffed and threw his phone into Chenle's lap. Chenle scanned over the messages and cocked his head. 

"Isn't that a good thing? I thought you liked Jeno?" 

"I do like Jeno, but do you know what marriage is, Chenle? It means Jaemin is going to move out, and they'll have kids and leave me. Jaemin will leave me." Jisung mumbled dejectedly. "I knew I couldn't stay with him forever, but I can't lose him. He's all I have left." 

Chenle stood up and patted Jisung's head. "He won't leave you, Sung. Jaemin is your brother. Who's to say he can't be Jeno's fiance and your brother? I know you're scared, but don't be selfish. You should talk to Jaemin when you go home, okay?" Chenle glanced out of the window and sighed. "I need to go. Tell him, Ji. Promise?" 

Chenle held out his pinkie with a childish giggle. Jisung interlocked their pinkies and kissed the back of Chenle's hand in a silent parting. 

"Until we meet again, sunshine!" Chenle called, and the door shut behind him. Jisung watched him leave with a fond smile. Even if he lost Jaemin, he would still have Chenle, and that thought put his rampaging heart at ease. 


	7. seven

[ calm doesn't come before a storm. real chaos will give no warning. ]

Jisung threw his duffel bag onto the couch and plugged his phone into the speakers. The dance building was empty, save for him, and eventually, Chenle, who was supposed to be joining him. Ten entrusted him with the keys that morning, as long as Jisung promised to lock the front doors when he left, and Jisung would be a fool to pass on alone time with Chenle. He still wasn't positive where their relationship stood, but he'd like to claim they're dating, at the least talking to each other in a less-than-platonic way. 

He opened his workout playlist and hit shuffle. The first notes of 'All In' by Stray Kids filtered through the speakers and Jisung began his stretches. He swiveled his head and felt the muscles in his neck loosen before dropping his hands to the floor. He closed his eyes and relaxed his body further into the fold. When he opened them again, Chenle was crouched between his legs, watching Jisung with a dopey smile. 

"Hey, bubby. Whatcha doing?" Chenle asked, tilting his head to the side. Jisung scrambled upright, almost smacking Chenle's face with his butt, and held his hand over his heart. 

"Holy shit, Chenle!" Jisung squeaked. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks the longer Chenle stared at him. "How long have you been there?" 

Chenle placed his belongings on the couch and peeled his sweatshirt off. Jisung owned the same hoodie, a pale blue one with Chenle's username in tiny font on the right pec area. But thankfully, he left it at home. 

"Long enough to know you have a nice ass," Chenle giggled, landing a firm smack on Jisung's right buttcheek. 

"Hey! You idiot. God." Jisung's voice cracked on the last syllable, and he was quick to try and hide it with a disgruntled couch. "Did you have a dance you wanted to learn?" 

"Wooooow," Chenle drawled. "You invite me to learn a dance and don't have anything prepared? You're slacking, Mr. Park." Jisung rolled his eyes, and Chenle smacked his arm in retaliation. "But yes, I did. I kinda, maybe, sorta stalked your account, and I noticed you danced to 'Troublemaker' with some girl? Anyways, I want you to teach me, and I want you to post it."

Jisung was both flattered and horrified. Flattered because Chenle was interested enough to stalk all two hundred of his videos, and horrified because now he knew of Chaeryoung's existence. Jisung chose not to elaborate on Chaeryoung's previous relationship with him and instead opened youtube and found the video. It was eight years old, with grainy quality, and Jisung marked the moves quietly. He felt Chenle watching him and dared to glance in the mirror. Sure enough, the teenager's eyes were locked on Jisung, silently tracking down his body. Chenle was pushing, and that meant it was Jisung's turn. 

"I'm going to teach you the chorus, okay? It's the best part of the dance." Chenle nodded, and Jisung motioned for him to stand. "Stand facing the mirror, and put one hand here." Jisung grabbed Chenle's hand and placed it on his hip. "And the other on your chest. Now swipe and flick." Jisung demonstrated the move, and Chenle followed. He had a sultry look in his eyes, and Jisung had to restrain himself from jumping Chenle's bones. 

"Put your hand on my hip. And then switch to my neck." Jisung pressed his body against Chenle's, staring at each other in the mirror all the while. Chenle's hand brushed across the crotch of Jisung's sweatpants before squeezing softly.

"Oops," Chenle giggled. "My hand slipped." 

Jisung was thanking his lazy morning self for going commando in his head, but out loud, he instructed Chenle on the counts and how to move his hips. They practiced the first eight counts until the sexual tension faded, and Jisung was impressed by Chenle's dancing. He was sufficient for an amateur and caught on to the steps quickly. 

"Just follow my lead for the next eight counts. I have full control of you in this part." 

"Wow. Hot," Chenle snorted, and Jisung scoffed. He placed his hands on Chenle's hips, which were rounder than he imagined, and pulled him further into his body. Chenle's butt was inches away from the imprint in Jisung's sweats, and he gulped. Slowly, careful not to touch, Jisung swayed Chenle's hips, counting aloud. 

"Perfect. You got it. Now flick forward and roll to the right." Jisung flicked his wrist toward the mirror and held out his arm to his right. This was the part with Chaeyoung that was always the hardest for him. It was impossible to be so close and not want to touch. 

Chenle copied messily, but he aced it on the second attempt. Jisung steeled himself to perform his part, hyping himself up in the mirror. With a determined inhale, he gently grabbed Chenle's hand and grazed his lips across the expanse of Chenle's arm and the column of his neck. Seconds before their lips would touch, Chenle pulled away. But Jisung refused to let him do it again. He cupped Chenle's cheek, and they met half-way in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Chenle's hands slid down Jisung's torso, feeling the taut muscle beneath his fingertips, before resting on the waistband of Jisung's sweatpants. He snapped the band against Jisung's skin, and the other shivered. They kissed until Jisung's knees hit the couch, and he fell back, Chenle crawling into his lap and placing kisses down his throat. He nipped and licked at the skin, creating red blotches in his wake. 

Jisung was hard beneath his body, and Chenle stroked the outline of Jisung's cock through his sweats. He looked to Jisung for approval, and when Jisung nodded, he tugged on his sweats. Jisung lifted his hips to help Chenle remove them and tossed the clothing somewhere behind the couch. Jisung's cock slapped against his stomach, and he gasped as Chenle's fingers wrapped around his shaft. Chenle pumped lazily, diving in for another messy kiss that was more panting than kissing. 

"Fuck, Chenle, please," Jisung hissed after Chenle's thumb teased the underside of his head. Chenle dropped to his knees and spread Jisung's legs to accommodate his slender body. He jerked Jisung a few more times, feeling Jisung's thighs tense and relax beneath his fingertips. Slowly, he took the head of Jisung's cock into his mouth, lapping at the mushroom head like a sweet lollipop. Jisung was leaking on his tongue, and Chenle was determined to suck him dry. He dropped to the base of Jisung's cock, nose buried in the thin trail of hair leading from his belly button to his balls, and hollowed his cheeks. 

Jisung cursed and threw his head back against the couch, gripping Chenle's hair to ground himself. He tugged on the soft strands, and Chenle moaned around his cock, sending a delicious vibration through his body. Jisung experimentally thrust into Chenle's mouth, and he gagged but didn't pull off. He glanced up through his bangs with tears in his pretty eyes, and Jisung's self-control snapped. He thrust his cock further down Chenle's tight throat, hand holding his head still and occasionally tugging at his hair. Chenle's hands flittered across his body, switching between flicking at his nipples and stroking his balls. 

Jisung's cock was heavy and hard on his tongue, and Chenle's eyes rolled back. He wanted to be Jisung's pretty little fucktoy, all pliant under his touch. His own cock was straining against his sweatpants, but he ignored it in favor of loosening his jaw for Jisung to fuck his throat harder. And that he did, tip hitting the back of Chenle's throat and making tears stream down his cheeks. He knew Jisung was getting close when Jisung's balls tightened, and the hand in his hair forced him to the base. Jisung pumped his cum down Chenle's throat, moaning obscenely, and he swallowed every drop. He released Jisung's cock with a string of saliva connecting his lips to the tip and clambered into Jisung's lap. 

They kissed slowly, tongues sliding against each other at a languid pace. Jisung's hands rested on Chenle's lower back, thumbs caressing the curve of his ass. 

"We should really finish the dance," Chenle panted when they separated, and Jisung whined. 

"Or we could not, and I could bend you over the couch and have my way with you." Jisung squeezed his ass for added effect, but Chenle slapped his hands away with a scowl. 

"C'mon lazy. I didn't drive all the way here to not do this dance with you." 

Jisung huffed but joined Chenle in the center of the studio regardless. Before an hour passed, Chenle mastered the short chorus section of the dance and was begging Jisung to film. Of course, Jisung was going to record, but it was more fun to see Chenle beg. He set up the phone camera, selected the sound, and set the three-second timer. 

"You ready?" He asked, peeking over his shoulder at Chenle. He nodded, and Jisung hit record, rushing to his beginning pose. The music began, and they danced. Chenle had a certain seduction to his dancing that left Jisung speechless, and it was a miracle he made it through the first take. 

Jisung sat with his back leaning against the mirrors, and Chenle joined him, resting his head on Jisung's shoulder. They watched the video together, Chenle giggling when his video-self placed a soft kiss on Jisung's lips at the very end. 

"I know we fucked up, but can you post that one, Ji? Pretty please?" Chenle batted his eyelashes with an innocent smile. "I want everyone to see how obsessed with me you are." 

"Hey! I am not obsessed."

"Oh, please, you have heart eyes during the entire video." 

And what about it? He wanted to say, but he didn't want to give Chenle the satisfaction of being right. Instead, he silently posted the video, giving it a cryptic caption and tagging Chenle. If the kiss didn't reveal their relationship dynamic, the hickey peeping through his shirt collar certainly would.

jisung_park: you're my little troublemaker @chenlele

Chenle eventually had to leave (not without a few more kisses, obviously), and Jisung dared to read the comments. They were overpouring with support and excited fans, but a few had the guts to call them slurs, mainly aimed at Jisung. The most extensive amount of hate comments came from jealous Chenle fans, and Jisung decided he'd have to tell Chenle about it tomorrow. 

chenlele has commented on your video: and i'll always be yours @jisung_park

But for now, all was right in the world.


	8. eight

[ only humans experience heartbreak so intensely that it kills them. ]

jisung_park: are you busy?

chenlele: hi bubby! not really, just finishing up some editing. why? did you miss me mwah

jisung_park: of course i did, but i also wanted to take you out today. i meant to ask you yesterday, but yeahhhh

chenlele: head so good it made you speechless, i understand

jisung_park: alright dummy, was that a yes?

chenlele: obviously. be there in fifteen

Chenle arrived in twelve minutes and twenty-three seconds with a gentle knock at the door. Jisung pocketed his phone, wallet, and keys and threw a jacket over his shoulders before joining Chenle on the welcome mat. Chenle pressed his lips briefly against Jisung's and linked their arms, smiling all the while. The soft sleeves of his baby blue sweater brushed against Jisung's arm and sent a shiver down his body. Chenle's presence affected him in a way no drug could imitate. This was love in it's rawest form, and Jisung never wanted the ecstasy to end. 

"So, where are we going?" Chenle asked when Jisung sat in the driver's seat, turning his key in the ignition. Jisung smiled and backed out of the parking lot, silently refusing to give details about their date. Chenle whined and slumped in his seat, feet kicking at the underside of his dashboard. His platformed converse made a heavy thumping noise that distracted Jisung, and he placed a hand on Chenle's leg to stop him. Driving with one hand proved difficult, but Jisung relished in the feeling of Chenle's hand intertwining with his own, fingers picking at the holes in his fishnets. His black shorts stopped around mid-thigh, and Jisung appreciated the smoky black eyeshadow that pulled the entire look together. 

Jisung pulled into the parking lot of the nearest Walmart and felt Chenle's eyes boring questions into the side of his face. He got out of the car and jogged to open Chenle's door. 

"Our date is at Walmart?" Chenle asked, linking their hands again and grabbing a small handled basket from the stack. 

"No, but what's a date without snacks? Any preferences?" Jisung scanned the candy aisle despite knowing what he wanted as he waited for Chenle's reply. The man hummed thoughtfully and reached for a box of Sour Patch Kids. Jisung grabbed his supply of Junior Mints and Swedish Fish, and Chenle snatched a bag of Reese's at the last second. The next stop was the drink aisle, and Chenle chose a pink lemonade, while Jisung grabbed his mixture of lemonade and tea. 

They were almost to the register lines when Jisung felt a hesitant tap on his shoulder. The tapper, a teenager with hot pink hair and enough piercings to break a metal detector, smiled guiltily. 

"Hi!" She greeted, and Jisung saw her lower lip trembling. "I know this is kinda intrusive, but I've followed you on Tiktok since you began, and I was wondering if you'd sign my hoodie, please?" Jisung noticed the black hoodie clutched in a death grip between her fingers and nodded politely. His merchandise was more minimalistic than Chenle's, with fewer pastels and more neutral tones. The hoodie she owned was Jisung's first release, a replica of his dance jacket with his name and number printed on the back. 

"What's your name?" He asked after uncapping the sharpie she gave to him. 

She startled at the question, bouncing uneasily on her heels. "It's Zoe." 

Jisung wrote a short message on the white numbers and signed his name before capping the marker and handing it back. "Well, Zoe, thank you for everything. It's people like you that keep me dancing." 

Zoe blushed bright pink and stuttered out a muffled thank you. "You two are very cute together. I hope your relationship lasts forever," she added and scurried away like a scared mouse. Chenle was shell-shocked, staring at the spot where she stood with a blush that matched Zoe's. 

Jisung nudged him teasingly. "See Chenle. She wants us to last forever." 

Chenle scowled and shoved him away. "You won't last much longer if we don't get this damn candy and go." 

"Aw, baby, are you flustered?" Jisung cooed, placing the basket on the conveyer belt. The cashier rang them up, Jisung swiped his card, and they threw the bags in the back seat. Chenle was quietly sulking in the passenger seat, and Jisung laughed at his cute pouty lips. He gave Chenle a chaste kiss and offered his hand to his embarrassed companion. Chenle huffed but laced his fingers with Jisung's regardless. 

The drive to the studio was quiet, save for the soft RNB playing in the background. The closer they got to the studio, the more anxious Jisung became, chewing his lower lip and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. If Chenle didn't like it, he swore he would castrate himself and crawl into the nearest hole. Of course, it wasn't a realistic thought process. Chenle was very kind and sympathetic. Jisung could give him a pile of dog shit, and he'd smile all the same. But it felt different this time, like a catalyst, a make or break moment, and Jisung was scared to break. 

Jisung grabbed the bags and Chenle's hand and led him into their usual studio. Chenle gasped, dropping Jisung's hand and collapsing onto the mound of pillows and blankets in the center of the room. A white sheet hung over the mirrors, flattened and wrinkleless. A small projector rested on a navy blue milk crate behind the mound of pillows, and a stack of assorted movies was inside. The lights were off, giving off an ambiance only nighttime could contain. Chenle grabbed a pig stuffie from the pile and tucked it under his arm before crawling to the movie stack and scanning the titles. Jisung picked movies ranging from The Bee Movie to the Conjuring to The Notebook, hoping Chenle would find something he liked. 

"Jisung, this is amazing," Chenle awed. "No one's ever done something like this for me." 

Jisung tossed his keys onto the sofa and sat behind Chenle, hooking his chin over Chenle's shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. Chenle turned to rub their noses together in a loving Eskimo kiss and picked a movie. 

"Princess and the Frog?" Jisung asked, opening the case and placing the disk into his computer. 

Chenle hummed. "I'm the Princess, and you're the frog." 

Jisung snorted and joined Chenle on his blanket... thing? A large comforter laid on the floor, with tons of pillows stacked near the top and around the borders like a fortress. Jisung laid down, and Chenle curled into his chest, one hand buried in a box of Sour Patch Kids and the other resting on Jisung's chest, beneath his shirt. The Disney intro began, and Jisung carded his fingers through Chenle's hair. He curled into the touch, and Jisung felt an overwhelming amount of love flood his senses. 

He was in love, and it was beautiful.

______________________

"Jisungie, can we watch another one?" Chenle mumbled against Jisung's neck, pressing a kiss to the bruised skin. 

Jisung laughed, and the sound reverberated through Chenle's body like a warm blanket. "This is our fourth movie, babe. It's already eight." 

"Jisung," Chenle whined when he stood up and began gathering the pillows and blankets. "I don't wanna go home." 

"Well, I do, so get up, you big puppy." 

Chenle got up with a bark (an actual dog fucking bark) and grabbed some blankets and pillows himself. They locked the studio door and shoved the bedding into Jisung's trunk. Ten minutes later, Jisung pulled to a stop outside of Chenle's house. 

"Let's do this again sometime?" Jisung asked. Chenle nodded and leaned across the center console to kiss Jisung deeply, pulling away with a dull smack. 

"Absolutely. Drive safe, bubby." Chenle shut the door and waved through the window before disappearing into his house. 

Jisung drove the entire way home on autopilot. His mind was still with Chenle on the studio floor, watching movies and sharing kisses while his body made sure he didn't crash and die. He parked and got out of the car, noticing his brother's ugly throw-up green car wasn't in the parking lot yet. Whatever. Jisung had a key for a reason. He took the elevator, which went side-to-side more than it went up, and unlocked his front door. 

Jeno's favorite shoes, a pair of lime green checkered vans, were sitting by the couch, but Jeno wasn't lounging in the living room like usual. Jisung shrugged off his coat and hung his keys on the rack. Despite the candy they ate earlier, Jisung's stomach was begging for something to eat. He popped some ramen in the microwave and went to his room to find some pajamas. Outside the bathroom, he froze. The light was on, and someone, presumably Jeno, was talking quietly. Jisung pressed his ear to the door and strained to hear a snippet of the conversation. 

"-so annoying, Taeil. I hate to say that because of Jaemin, but how long is he going to enable that kid? I know he's had a tough life, but it's ridiculous. Jisung is nineteen years old, and he hangs around like a toddler." 

Oh. Maybe, he should've minded his own business. 

"I asked Jaemin to marry me, and the first thing he said was, what about Jisung? Who the fuck cares! Jaemin's treating Jisung like he's his kid. Look, Taeil, I don't want to live with Jisung forever, and Jaemin and I don't see eye-to-eye on that. I try to be supportive because of his mental issues, but I wish the kid would get over it. His mom doesn't love him, whatever." Jeno sighed, and Jisung's heart broke. "I hate him, Taeil, I really do." 

Jisung wasn't petty, or at least he didn't think he was, but he swore to every God imaginable that he would tell Jaemin what Jeno said, even if it destroyed his brother like it destroyed him.


	9. nine

[ relationships do not rely solely on how much people love each other but on their desire to make love flourish in the darkest of times. ]

Jisung noticed two things over the week since he eavesdropped on Jeno's conversation. One was that Jeno clearly held a lot of hostility towards him, and it was painfully obvious once you knew of it. And two was that Jeno spiked his water with vodka and pretended to be sober when Jaemin arrived home. The latter was a newer development as far as Jisung knew, but his trust in his perceptions was slipping with every dirty secret revealed. Jeno was a baby alcoholic who hated Jisung's being, Chenle wasn't the shy, innocent person he thought, and Jaemin harbored regrets deeper than the growing holes in his pocket. 

College, the apartment, his ugly-ass car, and his severely underpaying job were catching up to him. He was twenty-years-old with the responsibilities of a middle-aged man with children. It was no wonder he ignored the vodka on Jeno's tongue and the slurs in his speech for a moment of freedom. Jeno made him feel like a teenager while he lived an adult life. 

On Day One of Jisung's Week of Revealed Secrets, or JWRS, for short, Jeno poured three shots of vodka into his water bottle before grabbing his keys and leaving. Jisung didn't know where he went, but when he returned, the bottle was empty, and his breath reeked of orange tic tacs. He greeted Jisung with a grunt and scowled as he kicked away a pair of Jisung's sneakers. Jaemin came home humming the tune to some pop-song and discarded his keys on the coffee table.

"Hello, Jisungie," he sang, planting a wet kiss on Jisung's forehead and hugging his brother close. Jisung could see Jeno's annoyed grimace over Jaemin's shoulder and softly nudged his brother in Jeno's direction. 

On Day Two, Jeno came home shit-faced and cursing like a pissed-off sailor. The words tumbled from his mouth as he tried to untie his shoes, leaning against the wall and falling forward every few seconds. It was pitiful, really, and Jisung laughed from his spot on the couch. His feet were propped on the armrest, and he was idly scrolling through his TikTok feed, commenting on Chenle's posts. His laugh got Jeno's attention, and the drunk man whirled on Jisung so fast he slammed his elbow into the door handle. 

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" He slurred, shoving Jisung's feet off the armrest. "Fucking bitch. You and your brother are always so fucking condescending." Jeno stumbled but caught himself on the back of the couch. "What? You think you're better than me because I'm drunk?" 

Jisung shook his head. "I never said that, Jeno." 

"Fuck you and your annoying brother." 

Jisung shoved Jeno, and the man hit the kitchen table before tumbling to the floor. "You can talk your shit, Jeno, but at the end of the day, my annoying brother is the only reason you have a house." Jisung spat. "So if we're that fucking irritating, you can pack your shit and leave." 

Jeno stared, wide-eyed and red-cheeked, as he walked away. 

On Day Three of JWRS, Chenle came (both definitions) to his house while Jaemin was working, and Jeno was somewhere with a bottle in his hands. He arrived with a knock and a box. 

"Uh, should I be scared? Are you gonna blow up my house like in Peter Pan?" Jisung waved Chenle inside and wearily eyed the box in his hands. It was small, with snowman wrapping paper and a sticky red bow. Jisung quietly hoped it wasn't supposed to be an early Christmas present because he hadn't even thought of what he was getting Chenle, or even if he was buying him anything. 

"Like Peter Pan? Don't you mean The Addams Family?" Chenle asked, wrapping his arms around Jisung's waist and reaching up to place a kiss on the underside of Jisung's jaw. 

"No! I mean Peter Pan! Don't tell me you've never seen it?" 

Chenle shook his head, and Jisung gasped. "Traitor. I'm forcing you to watch it with me, and I don't care what you say." 

"Fine, but you have to open your present first." 

"So it is a gift." Jisung detached his body from Chenle's and grabbed the box. When he shook it, a metal object clanked inside. "Are we celebrating something?" He asked as he ripped through Chenle's careful wrapping. 

Chenle rested his head on Jisung's shoulder, his fingers rubbing shapes into the skin between his hips and ribs. He shrugged. "We're celebrating me getting railed, I guess." 

Jisung faltered, and Chenle giggled. "Open the box, bubby." 

The wrapping paper revealed a cardboard Amazon box, and Jisung peeled open the crisscrossed cardboard, almost scared of what he'd find. The metal clanking he heard before was a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs and a matching set of keys. Chenle laughed at Jisung's dumbfounded expression. 

"Do you want the rest of your present?" He teased, and Jisung nodded his head, completely speechless. "Well, then you better come take off the wrapping." Chenle grabbed his face and tackled him in a searing kiss that left Jisung breathless. 

They never did end up watching Peter Pan.

On Day Four, Jisung saw the aftermath of a fight between drunk Jeno and furious Jaemin. Jaemin came home before Jeno could mask his breath with every stick of gum and Lifesaver in the house, and the smell of cheap beer and soju permeated every inch of the living room. Jisung decided the moment he saw Jeno come home with a plastic bag full of bottles that he would spend his afternoon finishing the work from his History of Dance class in the safety of his bedroom. 

He heard the front door shut and Jaemin's peppy call of "I'm home!" before silence overtook every inch of the apartment. Even the rat Jisung swore was living in his walls stopped scurrying to listen to the volcano about to explode. 

"Goddammit, Jeno!" Jaemin cursed. "I thought you stopped with the fucking drinking. What happened to the AA meetings?" 

"I went, I promise, but it wasn't for me. I'm not like those people, Jaem. I don't have alcoholism and daddy issues. They're addicts!" 

"So are you, you selfish douchebag!" Jaemin screamed. Glass shattered in the kitchen, and Jisung rushed in to see Jaemin throwing every bottle he could find onto the kitchen floor. He had tears running down his cheeks and blood dripping across his wrists where the bottle shards made a large gash on his palm. Jeno was pleading with him to stop, desperately trying to salvage any bottles untouched by Jaemin's wrath. Jisung didn't know what to do. 

Jaemin was furious, but the smile on his face was liberating. Every smash of a bottle made his smile wider, and Jisung realized that Jaemin found freedom in his ministrations. 

"Jaemin, please, stop!" Jeno sobbed, stepping carefully over glass shards and liquid. It was a miracle he made it to the center of the mess without slicing his foot into a bloody pulp with how drunk he was. 

"Why? Why should I stop? Are you worried about the floor? Well, let me ease your conscience, Jeno." Jaemin dropped the final bottle to the floor and ripped the shining engagement ring off his finger. "Rings don't fucking stain." And he dropped it into the mess of broken bottles and liquor before grabbing Jisung's hand and storming out of the house. 

On Day Five, all of Jeno's stuff was gone, and Jaemin's fragile heart shattered in Jisung's arms.


	10. ten

[ do not become miserable to make others happy ]

With Jeno gone, Jaemin's presence in the apartment considerably lessened. He offered to do double shifts, cover someone's shift, even once asked about getting a third job, which Jisung adamantly vetoed. What Jaemin failed to notice amidst his striving for perfection was the toll his absence took on Jisung's mental health. It was subtle at first, sleeping a little bit longer, showers steadily become a chore, but on the tenth day of Jaemin's breakdown, Jisung lost himself. Chenle noticed his change in attitude and bathed him in affection, but every action, word, and thought felt like a thousand pounds crushing his lungs. 

When the lights in the apartment cut off the next day, Jisung knew he needed to do something for his benefit and Jaemin's. 

jisung_park: can i come over?

chenlele: sure, but i have renjun today. so no touchy touchy

jisung_park: i'll be there in fifteen

chenlele: are you alright, jiji?

jisung_park: i will be

Jisung arrived at Chenle's in twelve minutes with a Starbucks latte for Chenle and a pink drink for himself. Renjun answered the door and flung himself into Jisung's arms. He smelt like strawberry soap and innocence, and Jisung couldn't resist cuddling the boy closer. The kids at the studio asked him if he was okay at least ten times when he taught them Saturday morning, but Renjun was the only one who didn't ask. He just gave Jisung the biggest hug his little arms could manage and left with his mother. All he needed was a hug, but not from Renjun or Chenle, or any aloof mother or secret sibling. He wanted his brother back. 

"Renjun, don't torture poor Jisung." Chenle scolded, prying Renjun from Jisung's arms to fall into Jisung's embrace instead. He softly kissed Jisung's mango-coated lips and led him inside. The living room was extremely clean but still had a homey aura that Jisung welcomed. His apartment was feeling more and more desolate as the week passed. Jaemin's shoes hardly entered the apartment, and when they did, he spent his day locked in his room. Sometimes Jisung could hear him screaming Jeno's name in the middle of the night, longing for a love lost. 

Jisung settled onto the farthest end of the plush couch, and Renjun bolted to occupy the space next to him. Chenle huffed at his brother, but let him be when he happily curled into Jisung's side. "Would you be willing to host a meet and greet with me?" Jisung asked hesitantly. Realistically, he doubted Chenle would decline the idea of money and time with Jisung, but a voice in the back of his head was criticizing him for being needy. 

Chenle smiled, and it made his eyes crinkle at the edges. Jisung thought he looked beautiful. "I'd love to, Jisung. Did you figure out the details yet?" 

"I was hoping we could ask our fans. Take a poll or something and find where most people lived."

Chenle unpocketed his phone and opened the app, prompting Jisung to do the same. Chenle recorded a simple video explaining the reason for his question and flashed a peace sign at the camera before uploading. Jisung wasn't entirely comfortable with his voice on camera and opted to upload a picture with words explaining. The picture he chose made Chenle splutter and leap across the furniture to smack the back of Jisung's neck. His entire face was painted a scarlet red, rising from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. 

"Park Jisung! Why that one?" He screamed. 

"What?" Renjun asked, clambering over Jisung to reach his phone. "I wanna see! Let me see!" 

"Absolutely not."

"Anything for you, Junnie." Jisung teased. He tilted his phone subtly in Renjun's direction. Renjun scrunched his nose in disgust and squealed. 

"Ew! Jiji, why are you touching Lele's tongue?" 

"Renjun! Don't ask him that. He's stupid." Chenle snatched the phone from Jisung's hands and hastily made to delete the incriminating picture. He was perched on the countertop, Jisung's hands on his waist and french-kissing him against the mirror. Unfortunately for him, Jisung's fans were nothing short of relentless, and already the comments were screaming about the picture. Chenle called it inappropriate, Jisung called it motivation. 

After a movie, the Crooks, chosen by Renjun, and a small lunch of Smuckers and Yogurt, the results were in. The majority of fans lived in (they live in America, just an FYI) New York City, Miami, and Atlanta. The next few days were filled with conversations with venues willing to host for a profit, flight bookings, and advertisements. On the first day of ticket sales, they racked in over ten thousand dollars in tickets. 

Jisung refused to tell Jaemin the specifics of his mysterious "college trip", not wanting the lecture that followed. Jaemin didn't argue much, or at all, just gave Jisung a half-hearted nod and retreated to his room. Jisung pretended it didn't hurt. He hated Jeno for taking his brother from him, and it was manifesting into an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. One that untangled in the presence of Chenle, bright, beautiful, sunny Zhong Chenle. 

"Jisung, hurry up! If we miss the flight, Seungmin will skin us both!" Chenle ran through the throng of people, his suitcase clattering against the ground behind him. Jisung easily met his pace, although he did almost drop his bagel once. When they approached the terminal, Jisung shoved the rest in his mouth and let the lady scan their tickets. Seungmin was their temporary manager, fresh out of college and with an ambition unmatched by his experienced seniors. He was also ruthlessly strict and scared the shit out of Jisung, but he'd never admit it to the demon's face. 

The plane rumbled to life beneath their fingertips, and Jisung held onto the armrests as it tilted towards the sky. Jaemin would be clawing at Jisung's arms by now, shaking like a chihuahua at the water park and cursing the inventor of airplanes. But in reality, Jaemin's shaking hand was Chenle's steady breathing, and it anchored Jisung to the present. 

"I think we should talk about what happened, Jisung," Chenle admitted an hour into the flight. He had a bag of salty peanuts in his hands and was idly twisting a nut between his fingers. Jisung didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to drown the thoughts in daydreams and the pills his psychiatrist prescribed. That was another development Jaemin was oblivious to, and he hoped it would stay hidden. 

"I don't want to talk about it."

Chenle nibbled on a peanut, contemplating Jisung's words. Finally, he sighed and turned his attention to the window. The view was nothing but fluffy clouds and the occasional peek of buildings. 

"Chenle, come on," Jisung grumbled. "Don't be like that."

Chenle shrugged. "If you don't want to talk, you don't want to talk. But can I?"

Jisung nodded. 

"I need you to understand where I'm coming from, Jisung, and I know this is going to sound awful. I really really like you, as I'm sure you know, but I don't see this relationship going anywhere until you feel better." 

Jisung blanked. 

"Wait, Ji, you have to hear me out." Chenle grabbed his hand and placed it over his heart. He felt the gentle thump against his palm and relaxed into the ugly airplane seats. 

"I spent years of my life trying to get to a good mental headspace. Years and years of hating myself and expressing my emotions in unhealthy ways to finally become comfortable in my body and mind. The person I am today is not who I was five, six years ago. Jisung, I never want to feel that uselessness again for as long as I live." 

Jisung pressed a soothing kiss to the back of Chenle's hand. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you. That means a lot coming from someone as important to me as you. Jisung, what I'm trying to say is that I can't help you better yourself at the expense of my own happiness. I know you know that awful feeling, and I will not willingly put myself in that position for anyone. Never. I don't think I could survive another day of that depression." 

Jisung understood. More than understanding, he related. 

"If you don't genuinely want the help you need, I can't be with you."

"I want the help, I promise." 

Chenle leaned over the armrests and laid a gentle kiss on his lips. "I trust you, Jiji." 

[ mental health affects everything. always prioritize your well-being. ]


	11. eleven

[ you can achieve anything you are willing to pay the price for. ]

Jisung bought five I Heart New York shirts on their first stop in the lively city, much to Chenle's annoyance. He almost refused to be seen with Jisung when he strapped a fanny pack around his midsection and put on the most obnoxious pair of red pants. It took Jisung three hours and a kiss to convince Chenle to explore the city with him before the fan meet the next day, and it was one of the best days of his life. They climbed to the highest point in the Statue of Liberty, managed to catch a showing of The Phantom of the Opera on Broadway, and took a stunning picture of them in front of Rockefeller Center (minus the "fucking annoying red pants").

Traveling was a luxury for foster kids unless they were transferring to a family out-of-state, and Jisung never strayed far from his hometown. Sure, he had his dance competitions in other states, some big cities like Atlanta and Seattle, but there was a certain aesthetic to being a New York tourist. Jisung wasn't marking through his dance every five seconds or fidgetting with his costume and checking his hair. He was walking with the boy he liked by his side, hand-in-hand and being as obnoxious as he could be. He felt like a little kid, and it was magical.

Chenle finally drew the line when Jisung tried to buy a pair of sunglasses shaped like the Statue of Liberty with a mustache that dangled from two short chains. He had to drag Jisung away from the stand and back to the hotel by the strap of his cursed fanny pack.

"Those were the ugliest fucking sunglasses I've ever seen," Chenle said when the hotel door shut behind them.

Jisung unclipped his fanny pack and tossed it on their bed (a shared one, mind you). It bounced off the fluffy mattress and to the floor with a concerning smack, and he mentally noted to check his phone later for any fall damage. "I thought they were cute." 

"You think everything's cute, even the ugly things." Chenle discarded his button-up for Jisung's college T-shirt and dove under the bed covers. New York wasn't freezing yet, but there's was a sort of nip in the air that made your nose red and toes freeze. 

"Hey, Chenle, you're pretty cute. Does that make you ugly?" 

"Save it, Park. I'll kill you in your sleep." 

Jisung held his palm against Chenle's cold cheek and softly placed his lips against Chenle's cherry-coated ones. He tasted like the pizza they had for lunch and warm sunshine. It heated Jisung's body from the core outward and made his spine tingle. Chenle arched into his hold with a breathy sigh, and Jisung saw stars. 

He pulled away and rested his forehead against Chenle's. "I want to be better for you," he admitted quietly. 

Chenle smiled and brushed Jisung's bangs away from his twinkling eyes. "And I want you to be better for yourself. I think we can make that work, hm?" 

Jisung wanted more than anything to make it work, so work it did. The fan meets were spectacular, and when Jisung went to sleep at night, he missed the adrenaline of the crowds and the overwhelming amount of love. It felt good to be in a room full of people who loved him, even if they knew nothing about his past. From 12-5, he wasn't Park Jisung, the foster kid with parents who would prefer he was dead and a brother with undiagnosed depression. In that conference room, with all those loving people, he was the Park Jisung that danced like his body was made for it and was hopelessly in love with Zhong Chenle. Nothing more, nothing less. 

In Atlanta, they snagged tickets to the Coke Museum and the Aquarium, both of which were boring as hell. But Chenle's smile was all worth it. In Miami, Chenle burned to a crisp at the beach, and Jisung spent the entire fan meet purposely slapping his bright red shoulders. When they got to the hotel, Chenle almost strangled him until he offered to put aloe vera on his back and chest. What happens in Miami stays in Miami, Jisung says now.

On the return flight home, Seungmin gave them both a warm hug (unexpected from him) and a promise to stay in touch for the already highly anticipated second fan meeting tour. Jisung's suitcases were bulging with fan gifts, letters and dog plushies since his fans liked to call him a golden retriever. Chenle's neon green suitcase, more annoying than Jisung's red pants, was filled with dolphin stuffed animals.

"I'll see you this weekend, right?" Chenle began as he grabbed his suitcase from the conveyer belt. "Dance on Saturday? Renjun's been raving about how famous his teacher is to Mom." 

Jisung slung his bookbag over his shoulder and headed towards the exit, smiling all the while. "Wouldn't miss seeing Renjunnie for the world." 

Chenle scoffed and punched his bicep. "What about me, jerk?" 

"You too, of course. But, yeah, I'll be there." 

Chenle hummed and wrapped Jisung in a hug. His body molded into the contours of Jisung's like a lock clicking into place. "Thank you for trying, Jiji." He whispered into Jisung's chest, kissing the fabric over his heart. "I'll see you." Chenle pulled back and unlocked his Mom's car with her hot pink set of keys. Jisung fetched his own from the pocket of his hoodie and sent a final wave in Chenle's direction before starting towards his own rust bucket. 

After removing venue pricing, camera pricing, and paying Seungmin, Chenle and Jisung were left with almost 15,000 dollars each. Jisung was practically buzzing the entire way home, excited to show Jaemin his earnings. 15,000 dollars could pay for almost a year of rent and the light bill for the month. 15,000 dollars meant Jaemin would come home before ten and sleep in after six. 15,000 dollars was the price of getting his brother back, and Jisung was willing to pay it.


	12. twelve

[ blood only provides DNA. it takes a heart to produce love. ]

The lights were off. Not unusual for their household, not in the slightest, so Jisung flicked on the living room lamp without a second thought. He rolled his suitcase into his room and tossed it onto his bed. He wasn't in the mood to unpack, but he wasn't tired enough to take a nap. Chenle was probably halfway to dreamland or being strangled to death by his mother and Renjun, so he was out of the question. Jaemin worked until the stars sparkled in the sky, and the moon was nature's streetlight, which meant Jisung had a few hours of solidarity. It was strange to not feel the warmth of Chenle next to him, even more weird to not hear Seungmin banging on their hotel door and screaming for them to "hurry up or you'll be fucking late!"

He missed the chaos already, and even though his limbs were weak and molding into the bedsheets, his mind was halfway across the world and running laps around Usain Bolt. With a groan, he dragged his limp legs to the edge of the bed and slid on his aggressively obnoxious leopard print house slippers. Jaemin would be elated if Jisung surprised him with rent and a spotless house.

Jisung connected his phone to the speaker and opened his playlist. If he was going to spend hours cleaning, he needed his power anthems to do it. He squared his shoulders, grabbed the broom, and began. One brief Twice dance break later, and the bathroom could have been from a Mr. Clean commercial. Well, Mr. Clean if he lived in a house with two lazy men. Jisung tried his best to tackle the toilet and the hair in the shower drain, but the first pube he found made him gag, and he stopped. At least the sink was cleared of toothpaste, and Jaemin's hair products were safely tucked in the cabinet.

He switched to his second bad bitch playlist and swiftly conquered the kitchen. Three months ago, the kitchen would have been filthy, with crumbs in the corner and sticky stuff on the countertops. But three months ago, Jaemin was still home by five and dating the man he thought he would marry. Jisung tied off the trash and called it done. He debated walking to the dumpster but decided not to push his sudden burst of energy before he finished the house.

The final room was Jaemin's. Jisung hadn't been in Jaemin's room since the day all hell broke loose, and he wasn't looking forward to seeing depression in action. Jisung heard stories of people who drank away their depression, smoked away the sadness. But the worst type of pain was the one that kept Jaemin from showering, cleaning, cooking, living. Jisung could ignore it when Jaemin wasn't around, but to see tangible proof of the demon would destroy Jisung's altered reality.

He grabbed his protective feather duster and approached the door. It was cracked open, just the tiniest bit, and Jisung saw the papers scattered across the floor. He poked the door with the handle of his feather duster, and it opened. Papers stuck to the corner and fluttered into the wall from the wind. Sitting in the center was a blue box, large enough to comfortably house one of his college textbooks without bending it. Jisung grabbed the lined paper by his foot and read the sloppy handwriting.

Dear Jaemin, 

Today is our six month anniversary! I planned out something special for you, just follow the letters. I'll be waiting for you, now and forever, my love. 

From, Jeno

Jaemin! You found the first note. Enjoy the sunflower. I know they're your favorite. Did you know that sunflowers grow towards the sun? You're my sun, and I'll gravitate towards you until my final breath.

A little birdie told me you lost your mother's teddy bear. I know I'm not your mom, and it's probably not the same, but meet Berry. He's blue, like Jisung's hair, and he'll love you the same as your old one.

Jisung remembers Jeno coming to him a month before their anniversary and practically begging Jisung to give him ideas. Unfortunately and conveniently, Jaemin lost the teddy bear his mother left with him a week before to the washing machine.

Follow the roses, and you'll find me. I love you. I hope I make you happy until we're old and wrinkly.

Jisung put the letters back into the box and paused when he saw his name. He pulled out the letter, which followed with a stack of letters paper-clipped together in the corner. His mother's name was in the top corner of the letters, along with the date. The oldest letter was from when Jisung was 14, and the newest was dated on his 18th birthday. They all started the same way.

January 14th, 2016.

Jaemin, this is Park Jieun. I called you yesterday, but you didn't respond. I'm not sure how to reach you about my son. I've found a woman's shelter in the city, and I've been staying here for a few weeks. There's a man here I think Jisung would love to meet. Please call me back. I want to speak to my son.

January 29th, 2016.

Jaemin, I'm becoming impatient with you. I understand that I haven't been the best mother to Jisung, but I've been clean for three weeks now. I go to meetings every Wednesday. I want Jisung to know me again. He's my child.

March 9th, 2017

Jaemin, I have a job now, for some company in the city. The income is stable, and I'm halfway to my budget for buying a home. This is my last warning to you. Let me see my son, or you will face the consequences. I have the money you do not, and you will never be able to produce enough money to deal with the lawyers I will send after you. He is not yours, he is mine.

May 22nd, 2017

Jaemin, I went on a date today. My boss caught an interest in me and asked me out. We went to a restaurant with meals that cost more than your paycheck. Jisung needs to live in a home with money. He will only struggle with you. We can provide him the security he needs to be happy and healthy. I have contacted a lawyer to open a case about our predicament.

August 17th, 2017

Jaemin, I hear you are fighting for custody of my son. You are seventeen years old with nothing to your name and living in foster care. What do you expect to gain from this? Humiliation? You may have the adoption counselor fighting for you, but you are nothing compared to me. Please tell Jisung that when he comes home, he will get to meet his little brother. I am seven months today, and we bought the house.

December 25th, 2017

Jaemin, I sent Jisung a present. Please make sure he gets it.

February 5th, 2018

Jaemin, my son should not be spending his sixteenth birthday with discount pizza and your boyfriend. He deserves a normal family life to grow and take after. You are raising him to be like you, and it makes me sick. How dare you deny a mother her child. I will be happy to end this next month in a court of law.

March 21st, 2018

Jaemin, I hope you are happy. I hope watching Jisung beg for his mother makes you smile. He will never love you as he loved me. You are young and dumb and in love. Jisung deserves more, and I am more.

April 2nd, 2018

Mrs. Kim, Jisung is incredibly happy with Jeno and me. We spent 5,000 dollars ensuring that he would end up with us, and every penny was worth the smile on his face when I told him he would be adopted in August. You are nothing to him anymore. You abandoned him, and that is how he remembers you. You are the woman who chose drugs over her son and left him to the wolves when he was a child. You are the one who forced him into a foster home with a woman who beat him and a man who said awful things to him. You have destroyed him, and I will dedicate my life to helping him feel whole again. You're right on one thing, Mrs. Kim, I am not his mother, and I never want to be. Especially not when his vision of a mother is you. I wish you the best.

Sincerely,

Na Jaemin and his very gay boyfriend, Lee Jeno.

That was news to Jisung. He remembered living with Jaemin during his 8th-grade year, with presents on every holiday and food on the table every night. He would have never guessed Jaemin was losing his life savings to his mother. But it explained the random shifts and the big buff guy that came over for lunch on Saturdays with a briefcase almost bigger than him.

Jisung searched the ruckus for a blank paper and a pencil. He found one buried under Jaemin's bed and started writing.

Dear Mom,

I remember the day you brought me to the orphanage. You brought me out for ice cream for the first time in years, and I got strawberry in a waffle cone. You searched through your pockets for the change, and a syringe slipped out. I picked it up and handed it back to you. We walked past the park, and I asked to stop, but you pushed me along until the sidewalk began to crack and the houses got more broken.

You stopped outside the brick building and handed me a letter before ringing the doorbell. A woman came to the door and took my hand, and when I looked back, you were gone. I waited for you to come back for three years, and you didn't even call. When Jaemin first talked to me, it was after I watched him get thrown down the stairs by our foster mother. The first thing he did was make sure all the other kids were safe. He was made to love, and you weren't.

I'm happy now, even if the apartment doesn't have a gate outside or marble floors. I grew up to be who I wanted to be, and all Jaemin did was sit back and ensure I became better than you. You have the money, and the husband, and the picket fence with a dog. You have everything I wanted when I was a child. I'm an adult now, with a job and a boyfriend and bills to pay. I know now that picket fences always come with a few bottles of solidified serotonin. You scream behind closed doors and wish death on your husband under your silk sheets. Jaemin and I don't have money, but we have love and honesty, and it's all we've needed.

Have a nice life. It's what I want for you.

Love,

Park Jisung, brother of Na Jaemin


	13. thirteen

[ new beginnings can only give you the canvas, you must create your own fate. ]

"Chenle, are you awake?" Jisung whispered into the darkness. "Chenle? Wake up. I need to tell you something." He shook the lump before him and received an annoyed 'fuck' in response. Chenle slowly stirred to consciousness and blinked sleepily at the mysterious figure standing above him. This was the point at which he should have been stabbed to death by the silhouette watching him sleep, but instead, said figure leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. 

"Good morning, my love. I have something to tell you." Jisung climbed over Chenle's body and flopped onto the open space next to him. The bed creaked from the motion, and Chenle held his breath, waiting for Renjun or his mom to hear. 

"What time is it?" Chenle croaked, reaching for his phone on his bedside table. It was cluttered with candy wrappers from fans and his glasses, but he located his phone and unlocked the dark screen. "Motherfucker," he hissed when the light flashed on and momentarily blinded him. "Park Jisung, it is four in the fucking morning! What are you doing at my house, you sicko?"

Jisung beamed and held out his phone for Chenle to take. Chenle read over the letter in the picture quickly, barely processing in his hazy state of mind. He did comprehend that Jisung wrote a letter to his parents. It was the first step in the healing process, and Chenle was insanely proud of him. 

"Jisung, that's amazing." Chenle swore he could see Jisung's eyes twinkling as he accepted the praise with a grateful smile. "Do you remember what I told you on the plane? About helping yourself first?" Jisung nodded and slipped his phone into the pocket of his hoodie. "I think I'm comfortable with putting a label on this," Chenle motioned between the two of them. "Now I know that I will be your boyfriend and not your therapist." 

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" 

Chenle shrugged his shoulders with a playful smile. "That depends. Are you gonna ask properly?"

"That depends. Will you say yes this time?" Jisung teased back. Chenle rolled his eyes and slapped Jisung's shoulder. "Fine, fine. Chenle, will you be my boyfriend? Officially?" 

"Oh, why, Jisung, I thought you'd never ask." 

"You're such an assho-" 

Chenle shut him up with a kiss. "I would love to be your boyfriend." He mumbled against Jisung's lips, rubbing their noses together gently. 

"Mr. Park?" A little voice called from the hallway. Chenle yelped and pushed Jisung off of him, sending him flailing. He hit the floor with a thud and a broken ouch. Renjun watched the scene unfold, stifling his giggles with the ducky blanket clutched in his fist. "Lele, can I sleep with you?" He asked, hesitantly stepping over the threshold. 

His little feet padded softly on the hardwood as he approached his brother's bed. "Climb in." Chenle lifted the blanket, and Renjun hoisted himself into the spot Jisung was. 

"Well, screw Jisung then," Jisung mumbled from the floor, rubbing the spot on his shoulder that made contact with the ground. Chenle smacked Jisung's forehead and tucked the ducky blanket under Renjun's chin. 

"Can Jisungie come cuddle, Renjun? Would that make you uncomfortable?" Chenle prompted warmly. Renjun shook his head and patted the small sliver of the bed next to him for Jisung to lay down. He somehow managed to fit his body on the edge, and Renjun turned to snuggle into his hoodie. 

"Tomorrow," Chenle whispered after Renjun fell asleep. "Tomorrow we'll tell the world." 

And the world took the announcement well. Better than well, in fact. The news of their confirmed relationship broke the tabloid headlines for days after Jisung posted the Instagram picture and caption that revealed all. It was exactly nine days after the post that Jisung received a call from an unknown number with the area code 212. 

"Is this Park Jisung?" 

"Yes, it is. Who is this?" 

"Hello, Mr. Park! I'm calling on behalf of Ethan Green with Vogue Magazine. We have tried and failed to contact Mr. Zhong, but we were hoping to get into contact with you about a magazine shoot." 

Jisung stared wide-eyed at his phone. "Me? Are you sure?"

The secretary laughed quietly into the receiver. "Yes, Mr. Park. Mr. Green is deadset on having you for his June edition. He says he would like to showcase a gay couple for the Pride Edition of Vogue. We are willing to pay for all travel accommodations for both you and Mr. Zhong."

"That would be amazing. Can I call you back once I talk to Chenle?" Jisung was practically buzzing in the middle of his kitchen. 

"No problem, Mr. Park. When you return the call, ask for Paul Arlo, and we can confirm the details together." 

"I will." 

"Alright. Have a nice day, Mr. Park, from all the people at Vogue." Paul ended the phone call, and Jisung stood frozen with the phone to his ear. Vogue just offered him and Chenle a temporary job in New York. Vogue, the fashion magazine. In New York. With a professional photographer. Jisung dialed Chenle's number three times before he finally answered. 

"What the hell do you want, Park Jisung?" Chenle cursed. Jisung could faintly hear Renjun's screams and Just Dance in the background, but he didn't care about anything other than telling Chenle that they were wanted by Vogue. Fucking Vogue!

"Chenle, Vogue wants us to do a magazine cover shoot," Jisung blurted. 

A door slammed shut and the noise silenced. "What did you just say?" Chenle asked. 

"Vogue wants us to do a cover shoot for them, Chenle. For Pride Month. Can you imagine how many kids, adults, whoever, would be overjoyed to see a gay couple for pride month? This is huge. We have to go." 

"Of course we do. But what about college, Ji? You missed so much when we left for the fan meet tour." It was true. Jisung had missed a lot of important assignments and evaluations when they went on tour. His grade dropped considerably, and for a moment, he was scared he would lose his scholarship. He spent weeks after the tour staying from morning to night in the studio and doing his assignments. 

"I'll be fine, Lele. It'll probably only be a few days." Chenle agreed after two minutes of flattering, and Jisung made a note to call Paul later. The day Jisung cleaned the house, Jaemin came home and immediately collapsed onto the couch. He didn't comment on the money or the spotless floors, and he dismissed Jisung when he tried to show him his letter. He sent it to his parents disheartened, and Jaemin left the next day before he was awake and came home before he finished at the studio. He was usually asleep when Jisung finally walked through the door, but other times Jisung found him laying on Jeno's side of the bed and holding the bundle of love notes to his chest like they were a bandage for his heart. 

Jisung made himself a microwavable chicken dinner and ate alone. He made Jaemin one and left it on the counter, but he knew it would be left untouched. After tossing his trash and cleaning his single fork, he dialed the 212 number. Thankfully, Paul answered the phone, and they figured out the details. They would board the flight on May 16th, stay in New York until May 21st for additional interviews, and the magazine would be released on the 1st of June. Paul found them a hotel in the heart of NYC and agreed to let Seungmin come along. 

May 16th found Jisung, Chenle, and Seungmin at the JFK airport for the second time. It was 74 degrees Fahrenheit, and Jisung was shivering in his hoodie. The amount of nervousness in his body was overwhelming, and he wasn't even sure why. Yes, it was a nationally acclaimed, popular magazine. And yes, he had no experience in modeling, but for some reason, he thought that wasn't the cause of his nerves. 

The car set to retrieve them was a sleek black limousine, fully equipped with alcohol (which Jisung downed in one sip), and a chauffeur who spoke not a word. Seungmin spent the entire car ride playing with the high-tech radios and fancy windows, while Chenle raided the Reese's in the snack bar. The hotel they arrived at was even fancier, with golden poles and elaborate archways. Seungmin checked them in, and they hauled their luggage to the spacious elevator and then their rooms on the sixth floor. Seungmin bid them goodbye at the fork between rooms 100-130 and 131-160, and they continued onward. Jisung swiped their keycard at the door to 127 and pulled his luggage over the threshold, completely in awe.

"Jisung, is that an aquarium above the bed?"

"Why yes, yes it is." 

Chenle ran to the tank and shoved his face against the glass. "Holy shit, this place is fucking awesome, Ji!" He squealed, and all the fish scattered away from his direction. They slept like royalty in the large king bed, stacked with fluffy pillows and silk sheets that felt like a cloud against Jisung's legs. 

The next morning was a harsh slap back to reality, literally. Jisung woke up to Chenle straddling his thighs and slamming a pillow against his face. His alarm blared from the bedside table, and he weakly attempted to turn it off. "Good morning, sleepyhead," Chenle cooed, pinching Jisung's sides and making him squirm.

"Get the hell off me," Jisung grunted, and Chenle complied, rolling off the edge and landing on his feet. He was dressed in a pair of black joggers and a loose t-shirt that Jisung recognized as his own. 

"You have thirty minutes to get dressed and be outside, or Seungmin will kill us both." Chenle pulled his Vans over his Rugrats socks and nodded once at Jisung before shutting the door. Fortunately, Jisung was in the car 19 minutes later, unfortunately right next to a very pissed-off Seungmin. 

"20 minutes meant 15 at most, Jisung, not 19 minutes and 47 seconds," he said and motioned for the driver to go. The photoshoot was taking place inside Vogue headquarters, in a completely blacked-out room. The only light, Paul said, would be light sticks of varying colors and the occasional glow-in-the-dark rainbow paint. Mr. Green aimed to show that even in darkness, pride can shine. It was kind of cringe, but Jisung was excited. 

Mr. Green greeted them at the door and walked them through the process. First, they would be escorted to the makeup studio and dressed by professional stylists. Second, they would take a few solo shots of each, with Jisung going first. And then the duo shots would begin. They were meant to reek of sexual tension, he said, a sort of fuck you to the homophobes. Jisung was positive they could deliver on that, and a subtle smirk from Chenle confirmed. They hadn't had much alone time since the fan meets between college classes, the studio, and the exhaustion. Jisung was almost spilling over with sexual frustration, and what better way to appease it than to have it appear on a magazine cover?

Jisung sat in the squishy makeup chair and allowed the makeup lady to maneuver his head. The gentle strokes of the brush across his eyelids nearly put him to sleep until she tapped on his shoulder. Chenle was dozing in his chair, hair falling softly across his eyes, which were highlighted with vibrant greens and blues. The lady led him to the clothing rack and handed him a set of tan clothes. Jisung pulled the peach button-up and corduroy jacket over his shoulders and stared at his reflection in the lighted mirror. He looked good, more than good. He looked confident, and it was something he hadn't seen in a long time. They took his solo photos rather quickly, seeing as they were more focused on capturing the rainbow tears on his face than the rest of his body. Chenle's took longer, about an hour of Jisung watching him be stunning and confident and beautiful and gorgeous and-

Well, Jisung loved him, and that was undebatable.

The duo shots required a brief outfit change and makeup switch, but by one o'clock, they were sat in front of the flashing cameras, nose-to-nose and smiling like fools. Seungmin gagged from the sidelines, and Jisung ignored the urge to flick him off. The photographer directed them to get closer with a subtle hand motion. Jisung grabbed Chenle's hips and pulled him flush against his body. Chenle had to arch his back to keep from accidentally slamming his face into Jisung's, and it pushed his lower body further into Jisung's. 

He could feel the scratchy denim jeans Jisung was wearing and the warmth of his hands creeping under Chenle's shirt, slowly, slowly, until they rested in the middle of his spine. The cold from the air conditioner seeped into the skin exposed by Jisung's hands bunching up his shirt, and he shivered. 

Chenle whined, placing his hands on either side of Jisung's neck, and leaned forward to capture Jisung's lips in a searing kiss that made his stomach coil. The cameras flashed, and a few people whistled, but Chenle could only feel the blood rushing through his body and Jisung's mouth on his, always reaching deeper and deeper. Jisung's hands slipped across his sides to rub across his stomach, thumbs slightly breaching the waistband of his jeans. The glow-in-the-dark, non-toxic paint the makeup artists painted onto their lips smeared with each touch of their lips until their faces were stroked in hues of greens and blues. 

The entire time he was in the makeup chair with the woman cleaning his face and handing him back his clothes, he was buzzing to see the pictures. The neon paint on the black backdrop would be stunning. He could feel it. The photoshoot marked the start of something new, but he wouldn't figure it out until later, when his biggest fears came to life. For now, in that chair, he was just a boy covered in paint and love.


	14. fourteen

[ WARNING: this chapter contains graphic instances of domestic abuse. read at your own risk. ]

Jaemin shakily turned the handle. He could feel the sting from the bruise forming under his left eye, but the sting of Jeno's demanding gaze on his back burned worse. Two weeks he abandoned Jisung, and he didn't want his brother to see him this way. Weak, vulnerable, defeated. He'd only felt this helpless the day he was in court fighting the Parks, and Jisung wasn't old enough to remember the pain. God, the overwhelming, searing pain of noticing that the fate of your love was not in your hands.

Jeno demanded he open the door again, more forcefully, and Jaemin froze. He wouldn't, he couldn't. He saw the news articles, the magazine covers. Jisung was doing amazing with Chenle, paying the bills, traveling the world. He didn't need Jaemin anymore. 

Jeno kicked the back of Jaemin's knees, and he collapsed to the carpeted floor. The rug dug into the bruises on his calves from the relentless kicking, but all he did was grit his teeth. 

"Fine, bitch." Jeno grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him to his feet. "But we're coming back every day until you say hi to your dick of a brother. Show him what his snooping did to his precious Jaemin," he scowled and dragged Jaemin to his beat-up car. Jaemin never thought he would relate to a car, but staring at the beer bottles on the floor, the cigarette holes in the seats, and dents in the hood from Jeno's vices, he felt awfully similar to the 2006 Ford. 

The burn marks dotting his arm only hurt when he wore jackets, which was almost every day, especially with his job. People asked questions the third day after Jeno snatched him from work, and Jeno didn't like questions. 

His hair was grabbed again when they arrived at Jeno's ratty apartment building, and he counted through the pain. 17 stairs, 16 stairs, 15 stairs, and he tripped. The grip tightened and it was all he could do to make it to the last step without crying out. One thing Jeno hated more than questions was unnecessary noise. Jaemin learned to be silent. 

Jaemin stumbled through the doorway, and Jeno disappeared into the kitchen. He heard the bang of a bottle against the dented countertop before Jeno recklessly cleared his path to the couch, tossing shoes and cups aside like they were rubber and not glass. The glass shattered against the wood, and Jeno motioned towards the mess, taking a swig from his bottle.

"Clean it, Jaeminnie," he cooed.

Jaemin made towards the kitchen for the broom but was halted by Jeno's condescending tutting. 

"No, no, no, Jaemin, use your hands. The hands that wouldn't open the fucking door." Jeno drank. "Useless bitch. Hurry up. You'd be running if it was Jisung, right? Do anything for his attention like the attention whore you are." He laughed like he told the funniest joke in the world, almost toppling off the couch. 

Jaemin slowly walked towards the glass in his socks, avoiding the shards that scattered. His attempt stopped when a piece of glass hidden in the fuzzy carpet dug into his heel like a knife, and he winced. He picked up each piece nimbly and dropped it into his palm, cradling them like a baby. His heel was tingling and the blood was dripping into the gap between his skin and sock, but he continued to pick the glass from the carpet and from beneath the living room table. 

"Bet you're missing Mommy right now, huh? Poor Jaeminnie, so scarred from being left behind by his mother that he adopted a kid to compensate. Now look at you. You're my bitch, exactly like your mother was your father's. And hey, you both abandoned a kid. It's like a fucking family trait." 

Jaemin thought the words hurt more than the glass in his fingertips. Bruises, cuts, burns, they all healed. His cells regenerated and regenerated until he looked like the Jaemin before Jeno. But his heart couldn't heal from an invisible wound, and on the inside, he would never be the Jaemin before Jeno ever again. 

He tossed the broken cup in the trash and sat in the chair beside the couch. Jeno would occasionally demand another beer, but otherwise, it was just them and the TV. Jeno loved the cooking channel, even owned an entire knife collection that he threatened to use on Jisung many a time. The meat sizzled in the background when Jeno stood up and slammed Jaemin into the coffee table after his favorite contestant got eliminated. 

Jaemin wondered if people truly knew how their lives affected others. If that contestant won, Jaemin may have escaped a night of continuous beatings. Maybe Jeno would have smiled at him instead. But no. He lost, and Jeno's fists landed on Jaemin's back, his face, his stomach. His body hit the counters, and his shoulder popped. His nose bled all over the bedsheets as Jeno's hands wrapped around his throat, and he forced himself into Jaemin.

When he finished, Jeno pulled out and fell onto the bed beside Jaemin, snoring like he ran five miles. Jaemin felt numb inside. His shoulder was definitely out of its socket, and the dried blood across his cheek peeled off as he walked to the bathroom on quivering legs. He didn't cry anymore, not since day five. It was too loud, too alarming, caused too many questions. He stared now. Stared at his fading hair and wished he could ask Jisung to redye it in their bathroom sink and stain the towels brown. He got so mad that day, but he would do anything for ugly brown towels now. 

_____________

Jeno cleaned up nice the next morning like he always did. The bottles landed in the trash, the Febreeze masked the smell, and Jaemin was bundled in a jacket, mask, and hat. Jeno got to erase his problems with fabricated scents and smiles, but Jaemin had to look his problem in the eye every day and do whatever he wanted. It's a twisted fucking world where his problem can convince the world that his abusive hands heal the sick. A nurse, everyone said, would never. Everyone was wrong, and it was slowly killing Jaemin. He hoped they thought about him every day after Jeno finally killed him and fucking hated themselves. 

17 stairs later, and they were at his apartment again. Jeno only stayed if he saw Jisung's car in the parking lot, under the tree where it usually was. He didn't have to check anymore, really. He knew Jisung's schedule better than Jaemin did. Knew Chenle's address, and how to contact Jisung's parents, and it was Jaemin's fault. His blind love put his brother in danger, and he would endure a thousand punches to ensure it stayed his problem. Because if Jeno wasn't Jaemin's problem, then he was Jisung's, and that thought kept Jaemin alive. 

"I'm getting sick of this, Jaemin. You open it or I knock." Jeno hissed, throwing him against the door. He feared the moment Jeno decided to stop wasting his time, and it was getting closer, clawing its way through Jaemin's skin and grabbing his heart. 

He knocked.

Jisung opened the door, and Jaemin cried for the first time in 11 days, 23 hours, and 7 minutes.


	15. fifteen

[ a broken angel still has wings, they just need to relearn how to fly ]

It's said that people see red when they become angry. Jisung didn't see red when his fist connected with Jeno's perfectly sculpted nose. Not at all. He saw the concerning purplish hue of the bruises on his brother's face and the pink burn marks welted on his arm. He saw the speckled gray carpet where Jaemin sat helplessly on his knees and the black hair Jeno held possessively in his grasp. The rage flowing through his blood was 95% adrenaline and 5% overwhelming shame, and it made him swing harder, faster at Jeno. 

Jeno recovered quickly from the first hit, and despite the blood pouring from his nose like a clotted river, he was defending himself well. He was better at hitting than protecting, Jaemin knew. Hell, he was the reason Jeno was as skilled at fighting as he was, but Jisung was mad. More than angry, he felt guilty, and nothing was more powerful than guilt, not even Jeno. Jisung's eyes watered as he threw punches wherever he could reach. Jeno's ribs, arm, and face were all feeling the extent of Jisung's helplessness. 

The fight moved from the dim hallway to the living room after a rough shove from Jeno that sent Jisung tumbling through the doorway. He barely managed to catch himself on the couch before Jeno was tackling him to the floor and laying hits all over his body. He desperately tried to escape, chest heaving beneath Jeno's built body but had no luck. Jaemin was screaming for Jeno to stop in the background, clawing at his t-shirt and pulling on his arms. 

"Jeno, stop, please!" Jaemin wailed, grabbing at any part of Jeno he could reach. "Stop, you'll kill him! Please, please, please, Jeno, please." Jeno didn't stop, and Jisung could feel the adrenaline draining from his body like a busted dam. His eyes rolled back, and Jaemin screamed louder. "Stop! Kill me, not him. Kill me, Jeno!" He sobbed, pulling at his hair and weakly hitting Jeno's shoulders. 

"I should kill him," Jeno said. "If he's dead, then you'll be mine, all mine." He wrapped his bloodied hands around Jisung's throat and squeezed. Jisung scratched Jeno's wrists with his blunt fingernails, kicking frantically to try and shake him off, but Jeno wouldn't budge. 

"If you don't stop, I will call the cops," Jaemin choked out, finally gaining some sense of composure. The tears still soaked his cheeks, but he was confidently holding his phone in one hand while the other shook by his side. 

Jeno glared at Jaemin and wiped the blood from his knuckles on his shirt. Jisung was almost certain Jeno would tell Jaemin to shut up and beat him until he was dead, but he stopped. Jisung feared Jeno stopping more than he feared his beatings. Because if he stopped hitting Jisung, he would hit Jaemin again, and Jisung would endure a thousand punches to ensure Jeno stayed his problem. 

Jeno grabbed Jaemin's wrist and dragged him to the doorway, leaving Jisung coughing and broken on the living room floor. Three months ago, they played Monopoly huddled around the coffee table, and now Jisung's blood left Jeno's handprint on the lightened wood. His body ached from head to toe, and every move made his head spin, but he refused to leave his brother. Jisung pulled himself to his feet and stumbled through the living room to his bedroom. His phone was at 13%, and he dialed 911. 

Ring, ring, ring...

Jeno's phone buzzed in his jean pocket. They were two flights away from the entrance to Jaemin's apartment building, and Jeno's phone hadn't stopped ringing. He shoved Jaemin against the wall and reached into his pocket with a huff.

"If you move, I'll go back upstairs and kill your fucking brother. Got it?" Jeno spat. Jaemin nodded, and Jeno walked to the platform to answer the call. He could faintly hear snippets of Jeno's conversation with who sounded like Mrs. Lee over the pounding of his heart. He wanted to run upstairs and hold his brother until they both melted into the floorboards, far away from abusive exes and bloodied knuckles. Mainly, he just wanted to make sure that Jisung was conscious before he was hidden away again for an indefinite amount of time. 

"Mom, please. Jaemin and I will visit, alright? We've been busy." 

Jaemin scowled and dug his nails into his palm. His body felt like a weighted blanket, crushing the pieces of his soul that remained intact, and he was losing control. Jeno ruined his life. He took his happiness, tried to murder his brother, and still dared to call his mom and say they would visit. He was a vile, useless monster, and Jaemin would rather die than succumb to a world revolving around Jeno. 

He tiptoed towards the platform, taking each step as if he was navigating a sea of glass. Jeno was engrossed in his argument, pacing the edge of the platform and kicking his foot against the wall. He cursed at his phone and paused in the center, right in front of the stairs, and Jaemin lunged forward. Jeno tumbled down the concrete stairs with his mother still screaming at him on the phone and landed in an unconscious tangle of limbs at the end. Blood was dripping from his forehead, and his arm was bent at a nasty angle that would probably require a cast. 

Jaemin didn't give a damn. He stared and stared at Jeno's mangled body and smiled. He smiled so hard that his cheeks hurt, and all his teeth showed because he was free. He was fucking free from Jeno, and if that freedom came at the price of handcuffs and a prison sentence then so be it. 

_______________________

Jisung hobbled down the stairs, clutching his bruised side with one hand and keeping a death grip on the railing with the other. He heard something, somebody falling down the stairs from the apartment, and panic was strangling his heart. The stairs were nothing to laugh about, especially in their apartment building. It was almost 20 steps each flight, all made of solid concrete. 

One time, Jisung tripped up the stairs coming home from dance class and had to get stitches for the massive gash on his knee. If Jaemin fell down those stairs… He'd rather not think about it. 

His legs were jelly and his head spun on each step, but he plowed on. 10 steps, 9 steps, 8 steps, 7 steps. He saw the shadow of a figure through his blurry eyes. 6 steps, 5 steps, 4 steps. He recognized the huddled form and almost started bawling. 3 steps, 2 steps, 1 step. 

Jaemin was always pretty to Jisung. He had the model face, the beaming smile, and silky hair. But the most beautiful thing about his brother was his love for life, despite how awfully life treated him. He treated every moment of every day as precious, even while he was poor, or the light bill wasn't paid. Jisung remembered the first month they moved into their apartment and Jaemin couldn’t afford the down payment and the light bill. They spent an entire month with sugar cookie scented candles as their light and made a giant fort that spanned the entire apartment. Jaemin kept Jisung distracted from the darkness for 30 days with playful jokes, giant forts, and the park next to the complex. 

Now nothing could have kept Jisung distracted from the battered body of Jaemin’s ex-lover laying at the bottom of the stairs. Jaemin noticed him staring and smiled. He was glowing. 

“Jisung, I’m free,” he said, and the handcuffs clasped around his wrists. 


	16. sixteen

[ domestic doesn't mean boring, it means familiar. and sometimes familiar is all we need ]

Chenle scrolled through his Snapchat notifications, absentmindedly brushing his fingers through Renjun's sweaty hair. He and Jisung returned from their usual Sunday night escapade at the studio about an hour after Chenle settled on the couch, sweaty and panting like they ran from a group of rhinoceros. Jisung immediately called dibs on the only shower in their apartment, and Renjun flopped onto Chenle's lap with a quiet curse that Chenle elected to ignore.

"How was practice today, Junnie?" Chenle asked, powering off his phone and setting it aside. He braided the longer pieces of Renjun's hair and listened as his brother rambled about pointe turns, Jisung falling on his butt, and how pretty the outfits were. 

Renjun decided about two months after Jisung was released from the hospital that hip-hop was not his style and begged Jisung to teach him ballet. They both struggled in the beginning, Jisung because of his lingering injuries and Renjun because of his balance. It was a repeat of getting up, falling, getting up, falling, until they both mastered, or in Jisung's case, remastered the basics.

The shower stopped, and Renjun bolted towards the bathroom door. He almost slammed into Jisung's bare chest in his haste to claim the bathroom before Jaemin got home. 

"Jesus, what's his rush?" Jisung chuckled fondly, holding his phone in one hand and a hairbrush in the other. His phone dinged, and his eyes widened, presumably in shock. "Holy shit, Lele. Look what popped up in my one year ago today." 

Jisung lifted Chenle's legs to sit down and cuddled into Chenle's side like Renjun was before. His phone was playing a video on repeat, and Chenle grabbed it from his hands. It was the video that started everything, with Jisung dancing, Chenle's colorful head of hair, and Renjun's cute chubby cheeks. 

"I almost killed him for that video, actually," Jaemin commented, and Chenle screamed, dropping Jisung's phone to the carpeted floor. 

"Fuck Jaemin! When did you get home?" Chenle cursed, shoving a laughing Jisung to the floor with his stupid phone. Chenle reeked of sweaty boy from Renjun, which was faintly combatted by Jisung's Old Spice deodorant. 

"About ten minutes ago. You can grab a shower if you want, and I'll start dinner with Renjun. Felix gave me a new chicken recipe to try." Jaemin clapped his hands excitedly, and Chenle nodded. He ran off towards the kitchen with Renjun on his tail, and Chenle noticed they were wearing a matching set of cat pajamas that concealed Jaemin's fading bruises. 

Jaemin healed quicker than Jisung, physically, at least, with minor abrasions but severe internal bruising. Mentally was an entirely different story. The foster system messed Jaemin up enough to warrant counseling, but between raising Jisung and working full-time, finding the time for mental help wasn't a top priority on his to-do list. The only reason he agreed to counseling was because he had no other choice. He insisted he was fine during his entire stay at the hospital, but the doctors saw through his empty words. They gave him an ultimatum, go to counseling or face jail time. Jaemin took one glance at Jisung's beaten body in the hospital bed next to his and agreed to talk to someone. 

Four months later, he found a job at a small daycare down the road from their new apartment, and he loved every second of it. Jaemin and Jisung had a natural bond with children from their years in the foster system, and it melted Chenle's heart every time he saw Renjun and Jaemin interact. And they interacted frequently. Renjun latched onto Jaemin the moment he met him and refused to go home that day, which led to Jaemin and Renjun's weekly Saturday sleepover. Chenle's mom dropped him off Saturday morning on her way out and he and Jaemin spent all night watching movies, eating the food Jaemin cooked, and giggling about who-knows-what. Chenle figured that's how Renjun learned some of his newer curse words but didn't comment on it. Then, on Sunday, when Jaemin went to work in the afternoon to prep the daycare for Monday, Jisung took Renjun to the studio. 

"Fuck!" Jaemin hissed from the kitchen, knocking Chenle from his thoughts. Yeah, Renjun definitely learned a thing or two from his precious Jaeminnie. "Sorry, sorry! Ignore me." 

"Already doing that," Jisung cheekily replied, and Renjun burst into a fit of giggles by Jaemin's side. "Go take a shower, babe. No offense, but you smell like a boy's locker room." Jisung crinkled his nose and playfully pulled Chenle on top of his chest. Thank God for carpets, or Jisung would be feeling the ache in his spine tomorrow. 

"Now you smell like a boys locker room, too." Chenle leaned down and kissed Jisung's cherry-covered lips. "Does that mean you'll join me?"

"You don't have to ask me twice." Jisung grabbed Chenle's hand and pulled him towards the steamy bathroom, ignoring Jaemin's groan and Renjun's gag. He turned the dial to hot and peeled his sweatpants off his legs. Chenle couldn't help but grimace at the scars lining his legs like zebra stripes. They weren't ugly, God no, but they reminded him of a terrifying moment in everybody's life. He thought he lost the man he loved, Jaemin almost lost his brother, Renjun could have lost his best friend. How would Chenle explain to Renjun why Mister Jisung wasn't teaching on Saturdays anymore?

Jisung noticed him staring and pulled him into a lazy kiss. "Don't worry, my love. I'm here, I'm alive." 

"I know, but-"

Jisung shook his head. "Nope, but nothing. The only butt I want to talk about is yours and why you still have your clothes on." 

Chenle blushed and smacked Jisung's arm. "Park Jisung!"

"Park Chenle!" 

"Do you mean that?" Chenle asked, tossing his t-shirt on the counter. They talked before about marriage and kids, very briefly, and both agreed they wanted to adopt. Preferably adopt an older kid, like Jisung, who had witnessed the brutality of the system longer than the babies. 

"One day, I promise. Let's try to survive college first, shall we?" Jisung stepped into the shower, wiggling his eyebrows like an idiot. 

"Oh, we're surviving college just fine. The only struggle is how famous we are, obviously." Chenle flipped his imaginary hair over his bare shoulder and climbed in after Jisung. His words weren't entirely incorrect. He and Jisung had done a few interviews since Jisung was released and were prepping for another worldwide fan meet. Tiktok was the majority of their income, besides Jaemin's job and the occasional dollar his mother insisted she sent, but it worked. 

"Are we going to keep talking? Or are you gonna fuck me against the shower wall because I'm okay with either." Chenle teased, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

Jisung stared at Chenle, processing, until he keeled over laughing. "God, you make me so happy," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "And to think, this all started with the for you page."

[ the end ]


End file.
